


Siria Potter-Black and the Goblet of Fire

by chamberinmyheart



Series: Siria Potter [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Sirius Black Never Went to Azkaban, Slytherin Triwizard Tournament Champion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-04-21 03:32:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 90,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14276016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamberinmyheart/pseuds/chamberinmyheart
Summary: Siria Potter-Black impatiently awaits a storm to perform the Animagus ritual. What she gets instead is cast into the Triwizard Tournament with an unlikely Hogwarts Champion (not Cedric). How will she juggle assuring her father she's fine, the additional attention, her growing crush, coming out, and the dangers of the Triwizard Tournament tasks?





	1. Moony & Padfoot

**Moony & Padfoot**   


Sirius Black of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was very happy to say he was a father, thank you very much. Over the first week of summer holidays, he adopted his goddaughter, Siria Potter and the two filed to change her name to Siria Potter-Black, to her endless insistence on it. Though, for the week of her adoption, she had to stay with her Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and cousin Dudley, Siria could not be happier. She understood that an ancient magic kept her safe and required she return to her aunt and uncle’s house every year. Siria accepted it gracefully this year and kept her head held high the entire week.  
Today, Siria Potter-Black sat in the kitchen of Number Four Privet Drive, waiting for her father to pick her up. It was so early that even Aunt Petunia had not woken, yet Siria heard the unmistakable creak of the stairs. There was hesitation in the step following the creak, but they walked heavily into the kitchen. Wide-eyed and jaw dropped, Dudley looked to Siria with a look of defeat on his face. Siria sighed. Dudley turned to leave.  
“I’ve got some mince pie.” Siria told him in a very flat tone.  
“So?” Dudley muttered with his back turned.  
“Do you want it?” she asked. Dudley looked over his shoulder, his face looked like that of an uncertain puppy. Siria turned the dial of her trunk and opened it. Inside the trunk were two mince pies, which she’d received from Mrs. Weasley, and some sugar free candy that Hermione had sent. She pulled the two pies out, placed them on a paper plate, and put them on the table, in the spot across from where she waited.  
Dudley cranked his head around the hall, to confirm the sound of Uncle Vernon snoring, before he waddled into the kitchen and sat down across from Siria. He eyed the pie suspiciously, looked to Siria, broke off a small piece, and, after convincing himself it wasn’t poisoned, ate the pies so quickly he almost inhaled them. “Thanks” he muttered.  
“Thank you.” Siria replied. She knew Sirius would fight forever to adopt her, but Dudley threw one tantrum and his parents surrendered. Uncle Vernon had really only denied Sirius the right to adopt her because he knew she would still be stuck there for a week every summer and it would make Siria happy. Her uncle hated Siria being happy. Whether Dudley meant to make Siria happy or had some other reason, Siria didn’t care. She was so elated that she could knew, if there had been a dementor, she would have no problem producing a Patronus.  
The wandlike, third hand of Siria’s watch ticked to what she knew to be travel: Sirius was on his way. Quietly, she allowed herself a small laugh. “What?” Dudley asked. She smiled from her watch to her cousin.  
“I’m just excited. You saw the laptop Sirius gave me, right?” She asked. Dudley nodded. “Well, Sirius said that if I finished his ‘agenda’,” she air quoted the word, “then I’d get to go to work with him, and Hermione could stay until we go to the Burrow.”  
“Herm— do you have friends?” Dudley asked. Siria squished her lips together in a pout then clicked her tongue and sighed.  
“Yes. Now that there isn’t someone chasing me down to beat me up, I have lots of friends.” Her tone was rightfully pointed. Dudley and his gang of friends had stomped out any chance younger Siria ever had of making friends. His rounded face fell with his eyes to the table.  
“Sorry.” he grumbled. Siria looked over her glasses at him. She opened her mouth to ask “what?” but knew she heard him perfectly. Instead she threw his plate into the trash and washed her hands.  
Dudley had gotten so big that his bottom hung over both sides of the large dining room chair. His school nurse had insisted, despite his parents’ protests, that Dudley had to go on a diet because the school didn’t supply the uniform in his size. All week he had been on a diet of what Uncle Vernon called “rabbit food”, which they would continue for the rest of summer.  
“You know,” Siria took her seat, “I might be able to talk with Sirius about getting a Smeltings uniform made for you.”  
“What’s he got to do with that?” Dudley asked. Siria sighed and raised the top of her shirt, to flatten the words stamped across it, so Dudley could read: Moony & Padfoot. She let the fabric fall.  
“Sirius co-owns the company. He could probably commission a uniform for you or something.” She let her eyes fall to the kitchen floor. It was hard to sit there and talk with Dudley.  
For years, Dudley had terrorized her, as his parents had. Even though he never got in trouble for breaking things, on more than one occasion, he accused Siria of breaking something, which got her locked into her cupboard or sent to bed without supper. He had chased off the people that wanted to be her friend. Dudley was spoiled brat that used his parents’ affection for him to get what he wanted, but so was Draco Malfoy.  
The very thought of Draco Malfoy made Siria irritated. Malfoy tried to get her in trouble under the pretense of wanting to duel her. In their second year, he had tried to sick a snake on her and said he wished Hermione died. Last year though… last year he caught her when she fell off her broom. When they stayed in the Hospital Wing, he said nothing about her friends, who he had previously insulted.  
“What?” Dudley asked her. Siria looked from the floor to him and echoed his question. “You’re glaring.” He told her.  
“I’m wondering if people can really change or if they’re the same and do out of character things.” She confessed. Dudley kept the same confused expression. Siria rested her elbow on the table and looked at her pink hued, round faced cousin. Part of her wondered if this is how Malfoy felt when he tried to talk with his lackies, Crabbe and Goyle.  
“Look, do you want me to ask Sirius about the uniform or not? The Smeltings nurse prescribed you that diet and—” she emphasized the word “— exercise. You’re just going to be miserable and unable to fit into their stupid sizes without exercise, so, if you aren’t happy about it, change the way you’re doing it.” Dudley squished his face together in a way that reminded Siria of his fake crying.  
“Are you making fun of me?” he growled at her. Siria sighed.  
“No, cousin, I’m not. I’m trying to return a favor— your tantrum got your dad to let Sirius adopt me faster. Even as someone who only had to pretend to commit to this diet, I can say it sucks.” Siria rested her other elbow on the table and held the first in the palm of her hand. Dudley muttered something too quietly for her to catch it. She leaned toward the center of the table.  
“I want it.” He grumbled. Siria leaned back into her chair.  
“Cool. I’ll ask him when he gets here.”

The only Moony & Padfoot location Siria had seen was a boutique on Cheshire Street. When Sirius told her that she would finally get to see him at work, she had fully expected to see him there. Upon arriving to the towering, glass structure of his actual office building, she felt both foolish and speechless. From the moment they could see it from the car window, she was in awe. Each floor of the interior was even worthy of her amazement.  
Someone had painted the ground floor to look like the woods, complete with autumn leave painted trees, and the occasional fallen leaf painted on the ground. Each floor was painted to look like the outdoors, as if it was part of a cartoon, or a spectrum of a color’s shades. When they reached Sirius’s floor, Siria paused. Sirius walked onto the painted floors and she extended her foot onto the floor. “Why would you do this?” She asked.  
“It’s funny.” He smiled at the icy painted floor. The floor had been painted to look like an iced over lake. It was textured with fine, snow like details in patches that had fallen from the cloudy looking roof. There were thin cracks painted into the ice. She stepped fully onto the floor and sighed with relief.  
“It isn’t real ice.” Sirius grinned at her. “I couldn’t do that here.”  
“If you did this at home, I’d be so mad.” Siria confessed while they passed through a pair of doors that were painted to look like snowy tree trunks. The inside looked as if it had been hit with a catapult of cloth. While there were obviously three desks, their chairs, and a series of different sized mannequins, there was even more obviously heaps of cloth and samples. They couldn’t stand anywhere without stepping on something.  
“Err…” Siria looked around the room and to Sirius. There was a small smile in the corner of his mouth. He sighed, whipped out his wand, and gave it a wave. The fabric bolts rolled up and sorted themselves by colors on giant pegs that had been welded into the wall. Cut fabrics folded up and filed themselves in filing cabinets behind the row of mannequins, which straightened out. Buttons and beads around the room pulled themselves into mason jars that fastened to the magnetic bottom of a long bookshelf with baskets, where fabric scraps rolled or folded into.  
“Chloe.” Sirius smiled at Siria. “She gets a little carried away if she’s left in the office because she counts on us to clean up after her.” He sighed and sat down at the desk in front of peg wall. Siria walked around the room.  
“So,” A blush crept into Siria’s cheeks, “Padfoot got the idea from seeing me in handmedowns that I’d fixed up, got Moony to agree to help, and they were lucky enough a down on her luck designer overheard them talking?”  
“We were.” He nodded. Siria stood before the windows, looking out onto the city. “Remus and I didn’t know anything about Muggle money. If Chloe hadn’t overhead us, Moony & Padfoot would have been a lot more magically oriented, but we would also be unheard of.  
“Now, I can leave you with a fortune in both worlds.” Sirius told her. Siria’s throat sank into her stomach.  
“Leave?” She choked.  
“Oh, not for a good long while. Despite what you joke, you’re old man is pretty young.”  
“Good!” Siria marched from the window to his chair and hugged him. “You need to live to be at least as old as Dumbledore.” He laughed.  
“I’d be very lucky to get that old.” Sirius patted her back. “To business though.”  
Sirius called Kreacher, who popped into the room with a crack. Kreacher gave Siria a large grin and beamed up at her. Sirius had Kreacher guard the door while he closed the curtains. Siria stood in the middle of the room, feeling her heart hammer. “Remember,” Sirius told her. “As Secret Keeper of Number Twelve, you have to tell people you live at the flat, okay?” She nodded.  
The unmistakable crack of someone Apparating caused Siria to jerk her head. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, in a magnificent set of blue and purple robes, stood before them. He had a kind smile, but serious feel in the twinkle of his blue eyes. Something about Dumbledore, Sirius, and Kreacher being there for the transfer of Secret Keeper moving from Sirius to Siria that made it both wonderful and terrible for her. Though Sirius had said he would make her Secret Keeper because he felt bad that they didn’t know when the storm required for her Animagus transformation would occur, she knew it was more.  
Her week at the Dursleys’ was full of visits from Sirius for more than adoption paperwork and her name change to Potter-Black. He had been open with the fact that he, Dumbledore, Remus, and others wanted to be ready. Siria didn’t have to ask why or for what. They were preparing for Tom Riddle’s return as Voldemort— the Dark Wizard that terrorized the Wizarding World, Muggles, and had killed countless people, Siria’s parents included.  
When Sirius broke the Fidelius Charm on himself, Siria wasn’t sure it had worked. Nothing seemed any different, until he placed it on her. There was a rush of pressure. It felt like she had been thrown under water. Her palms thrust to the floor in an attempt to keep herself up. Siria’s very breath escaped her until Dumbledore placed his hand on her shoulder. He and Sirius pulled her to her feet.  
Once she stood up, the weight was still there, but felt less like the pressure of being under water and more like an invisible hand was pressing against her chest. She took a large, full breath. The weight stayed. Sirius gave her a small smile. He asked where she lived. “38 Baker Street, flat D.” She grinned at him. Sirius crossed his arms. Siria looked to Dumbledore. “I don’t suppose I’ll get to learn how you melted the locket this summer?” She asked him. Dumbledore and Sirius smiled at her. Siria rocked on the balls of her feet while she grinned at them. She knew it wasn’t fair to impair their plans, but she wasn’t about to give up the chance of learning how to take care of cursed objects.  
“Well,” Dumbledore looked over his crescent moon glasses, at Sirius. “Like father, like daughter.”

The rest of her second week of summer was spent between two of Siria’s favorite places: Hogwarts and Grimmauld Place. She was never without Kreacher, Sirius, Dumbledore, or Remus, and they were almost always doing something magic and wonderful. Part of Siria felt she learned more in that week than she had in her first two years of Hogwarts combined. Dumbledore taught her Fiendfyre and its’ counter. Remus tested her Healing Spells and taught her defensive ones with Sirius. She dueled with Sirius for at least two hours a day. He refused to move on until she could produce a Shield Charm every time.  
Saturday night, at 38 Baker Street, Hermione arrived with Chloe. “It was the craziest thing!” Chloe told them as she sat down to eat. “I was going to show Hermione your old place, but I could not remember where you used to live for the life of me!” She gave a loud sigh. “I can’t possibly be getting old.” Chloe looked into a decorative mirror with her face in her hands, as if she were trying to stop her aging.  
“It’s cool.” Siria said while she piled some mashed potatoes onto her plate. “If ‘Mione really wants to see, I’ll have Sirius swing by before we go to Ron’s.” She wasn’t about to tell Chloe that they were going to the “old place” tonight. Chloe was a Muggle and the less she knew, the better.  
“Speaking of seeing,” Chloe shot a sharp look to Sirius. “Tomorrow we’re going to the optometrist and getting your daughter some new glasses. I’m not letting her leave until we get her at least two pairs.”  
“I’m getting glasses!” Siria asked and looked to Sirius. He clicked his tongue.  
“It was going to be a surprise, but yes.” he replied flatly. Hermione smiled.  
“You knew?” Siria asked her. Hermione looked apologetically over her fork. “‘Mione!”  
“It was a surprise.” Hermione whispered. Siria sighed, but couldn’t hide her excitement.  
For the last six years, Siria had worn the same pair of old, repeatedly broken glasses. Sometimes they gave her headaches. Lately, street signs and billboards had gotten blurry. She gave a dreamy sigh. This was shaping to be the best summer yet: Adopted, Secret Keeper, hands-on training with Dumbledore and Remus, dueling with Sirius, she got to see Moony & Padfoot, and would be getting in glasses in time for the Quidditch World Cup.  
“Have you heard from anyone?” Hermione asked Siria.  
“Yeah. Astoria and Colin have sent me a letter everyday— Colin’s brother already got his acceptance letter.” Siria replied.  
“Astoria told me. She said he was already getting worried that his brother may not get in. I think she was almost as relieved as he was about it.”  
“She’s sweet like that.” Siria looked to Sirius. “Hey dad, what do you think about giving me a sister—” Sirius’s face fell. “A Remua Black?” She chuckled. Hermione chortled.  
“If you really want one…” Sirius snickered.  
“I suppose I could always marry someone with a sister.” Siria suggested playfully.  
“You know who would be great? I hear Daphne Greengrass has—” Hermione winced when Siria kicked her under the table.  
“Greengrass?” Sirius asked in a startled tone. Siria dropped her eyes to her plate. Chloe pulled out her phone. “Oh my, would you look at that?” Chloe said while she got to her feet. “It’s just past time to talk and is time for me to leave!” She waved and closed the door of the flat behind her.  
“Pureblood Greengrass?” Sirius asked.  
“I don’t like her! I like Travers!” Siria’s hand shot to her mouth. Hermione looked wide-eyed at her. Siria pushed her plate forward to plop her head on the table.  
“That’s fine.” Sirius told her. “I’d rather you liked someone that wasn’t Pureblood, but that really isn’t fair for them.”  
“Travers is a girl.” Siria whispered at the table, “Like Hermione.”  
“I’d really love to hear more. If it’s alright with you, we’ll table this talk, until we’re home and Hermione is settled.”


	2. Little Talks

**Little Talks**   


On the top floor of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Siria Potter-Black stood against the wall with her eyes watching her feet. Her father sat in a plain, wooden dining chair, watching her with an apologetic look on his face. It was her first time seeing Sirius’s room, which was violently gold and red for Gryffindor, his old House at Hogwarts and her current one. Gryffindors are said to be a brave lot and Siria seldom felt she had been missorted, but this was one of those times.  
“So, I… that is to say,” Sirius scratched his chin and looked to the towering bookshelf beside him. It was overflowing with parenting books. He straightened up in his chair. “Siria, do you remember the talk Remus and I had after your first menstrual cycle?” Siria fake gagged in reply. “Hey, it’s normal— both the cycle and the, er,” Sirius coughed a muffled word into his hand. “Well, I’m not particularly… what I mean is, I—” Sirius held his head in his hands and ruffled his fine, black hair while he growled.  
“Siria!” Sirius rose to his feet. “I love you. It is just as normal for you to like Travers as it is for you to have liked Nate. It’s normal if you think they’re attractive, if you want to date them or kiss them— even if they’re Pureblood. You’re more than who like.”  
“What about you?” Siria whispered. Sirius pressed his hand to his mouth while he thought how to word what he had been trying to say. “Do you like Chloes or Remuses or both or neither?” Sirius quietly clicked his tongue.  
“What would you do if I said I didn’t really like either?”  
“If you’re happy not liking either, then I’ll drop it.” Siria stared intently at the floor. “I just want you to be happy.” Sirius placed a hand on her shoulder and lifted her head.  
“And that’s all I want for you.”  
She didn’t know why, but tears broke from Siria’s eyes and she threw her arms around Sirius. He patted her back and let her cry. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!” She sobbed.  
“Oh, my dear Siria” he soothed. “I understand.” He patted her wild hair until she calmed down. “There we go,” Sirius smiled as he smeared her tears around her face. “All better.” Siria knocked his hand away to wipe her nose on her sleeve.  
“Do you think Hermione’ll be upset?” Siria asked.  
“Hermione’s a good friend. If anything, I imagine she’s more worried she’s upset you.”  
Hermione sat on a cushion, on top of the artic blue bookshelf, watching the doorway. The moment Siria was in sight, Hermione ran and hugged her. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!” She loosened the hug to look at Siria. “I mean, I thought that you might because Travers gets you so tongue-tied and you and Daphne are really close, and you hardly talk about boys, but are open about who you think is pretty and—”   
“Hermione!” Siria stopped her. “I like both, okay. So, if you want to go home…”  
“Why?” Hermione looked taken aback. “You’re my best friend. It doesn’t matter who you like, unless you’re mad at me? Are you?”  
“No! Not at all!” Siria cried. Hermione pulled Siria back into a tight hug.  
“I love you.” Hermione whispered.  
“I love you too!” Sirai choked as she tried to stifle her tears.

Much of the rest of Hermione and Siria’s time with Sirius was the busiest either of them had ever had— including when Hermione took every subject last year and needed a Time Turner to attend them all. There wasn’t a moment of relaxation. During the days, if they weren’t at Moony & Padfoot, they were being mentored by Chloe at the flat on Baker Street, unless they were Neville’s, convincing his grandmother to let him attend the Quidditch World Cup and that it was no problem at all to have him along. Every night they were guided by Remus or Sirius in dueling, being taught how to cook by Kreacher, and powering through one of Sirius’s computer programs on skills he insisted were priceless.  
Hermione and Siria had taken to writing their replies in the car. They wrote them with pens on lined paper and then had to send a notebook and pen to each of the Purebloods who couldn’t understand how the letters had been written. Astoria had been so taken she had shown Daphne who “tried not to show her excitement, but really likes them.” Colin had apparently sent her a pack of colored pens and Astoria celebrated by writing everyone a letter with her sentences in rotating colors.

(Book: B4, 1-15 Tom Riddle/Voldemort & Peter Pettigrew/Wormtail are at the Riddle House. They discuss their plan, which involves the Quidditch World Cup and the Triwizard Tournament. Bertha Jorkins was instrumental in their plan and has been killed. The gardener, Frank, overheard their plans, but Nagini, Voldemort’s snake, has seen him. Voldemort kills Frank. Siria wakes with her hands pressed to her scar, in pain)

In a cold sweat, Siria flew up. Kreacher was on the the end of her bed, with Hermione and Sirius on either side of her. Hermione immediately threw her arms around Siria’s neck. “Is Mistress okay?” Kreacher croaked.  
“Just a nightmare.” Siria winced while she rubbed her scar, which still felt like it was burning.  
“Siria,” Sirius’s tone was calm and level. He sat on the edge of the bed. “I need you to tell me what happened, so I know how to help.”  
“My scar hurts.” She murmured into the quiet room where three pairs of anxious eyes were watching her. Siria sighed. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her head on them. “I already hardly remember it.”  
“What do you remember?” Hermione asked.  
Siria pressed her hands to eyes then sighed before she began. “Tom and Pettigrew were in this big, creepy house and talking about murdering me.” She sighed again. It wasn’t unheard of for Tom Riddle to want her dead, but trying to kill her had historically been his downfall. She got the lightning bolt scar on her forehead from Tom’s Killing Curse bouncing off of her and hitting him. “They were talking about some lady they killed and…” the more she tried to remember about the conversation, the more the dream seemed to escape her. “Tom’s ‘most faithful servant’ will rejoin… and they killed some guy” Siria groaned and rubbed her eyes. “It was just a nightmare.”  
Worry weighed heavily in Sirius’s tired grey eyes. They silently added to her suspicion that it hadn’t been a dream at all— that she, Siria Potter-Black, had somehow seen who knows how many miles away to what the Dark Lord himself was doing. Hermione’s small hand patted on Siria’s back. “It’ll be okay. I’m sure there’s something on old curse scars hurting. Professor Dumbledore may know something too, or Madam Pomfrey.”  
“Yeah.” Siria nodded with her head still on her knees.  
“Why don’t we head to the office?” Sirius proposed. “Hermione hasn’t been and we can grab breakfast on our way to the optometrist.”  
“That sounds great!” Hermione nodded and looked to Siria.  
“What about Kreacher?” Siria asked.  
“Kreacher will be home with a feast, for when Mistress returns.” He smiled one of his large, gummy grins at her. She extend a hand to hold his for a moment. The small, blue-grey fingers were warm and reassuring. Siria closed her eyes, squeezed Kreacher’s hand and took a deep, swelling breath. “I can’t wait.”  
The talk from Number Twelve was a mix of explaining the Fidelius Charm to Hermione and her arguing that Kreacher should be set free. “We tried!” Sirius groaned. “He threw himself on the floor and sobbed. Siria spent an hour lying to Kreacher and saying I was joking.”  
“But what about the Dobby’s of the world!” Hermione insisted again.  
“Kreacher isn’t a Dobby!” Siria snapped. “He’s very loved and he’s treated well. If he would let Sirius, he’d be paid— paid Hermione.” Siria rubbed her fingers on an imaginary Galleon. “We could afford it.”  
“Well there are more cases like Dobby out there.” Hermione told her. “Not to mention the way other creatures are treated. Why do you think there have been so many goblin rebellions?”  
“Hermione, if it bothers you that much, why don’t you do something?” Siria asked. “If you make a petition, I’ll sign; if you want to write letters or Howlers, I’ll do them with you, but, if this really bugs you so much, change it.”  
“I will!” Hermione clicked her tongue, crossed her arms, and turned away from Siria.  
“Good!” Siria snapped at the back of Hermione’s head and turned away as well.  
When they returned to the office, it looked as though it had been ransacked. Someone had practically thrown half a rainbow of bolts of tulle, lace, chiffon, jersey, and satin across the floor. It looked like someone had careless dumped out jars of beads onto one of the desks, and most of the beads had rolled onto the floor. In the very center of the room were three mannequins, two with mostly finished dresses, one blue and one emerald, and one with a set of fine, black robes that had been lined and trimmed in gold.  
Chloe knelt on a stool, with pins pressed between her lips while she fastened more bronze lace to the blue dress. Her headphones were so loud that they could make out some of the words. She hadn’t noticed them arrive. Sirius placed a finger to his lips, not that Chloe could have heard anything they might have said. He flicked the switch, which caused the lights to slowly dim, before he flicked it back on and the light steadily returned. Chloe took the needles from her mouth and looked around.  
At the top of her lungs, to be louder than the music in her ears, she shouted. “I’M NOT DONE!” Sirius just tapped his ears. Chloe clicked her tongue, but pulled her phone out and paused her music. “You weren’t supposed to see them until I finished!” Chloe snapped. She looked to Hermione and Siria then rolled her eyes. “Fine!” Chloe waved for them to come closer. Hermione took Siria’s hand so she wouldn’t fall in the obstacle course of bolts and loose fabric.  
“Are these for us?” Siria asked while she admired the emerald dress. She reached toward the fabric of the dress, with her eyes on Chloe, who nodded. Siria had learned just yesterday to only touch a designer’s, or at least Chloe’s, work if they gave the okay. She stroked the emerald fabric and took in the dress.  
“Why am I Slytherin?” she asked. “I mean, this one’s for me, right?”  
“I hadn’t even realised.” Sirius confessed. “We made Hermione Ravenclaw.” He clicked his tongue. “And Ron is Hufflepuff. You shouldn’t have let me pick the color scheme!”  
“What is happening?” Chloe asked. She looked to the three other faces in the room.  
“They’re different programs at our school.” Hermione told her. “Each is designed to help us focus on the things we value most— Slytherins are ambitious and cunning, so it really fits Siria.”  
“I’m a Gryffindor” Siria muttered while she admired the silver interior of her dress. “‘Cause I’m brave,” she looked over her glasses, at Sirius, “like my parents.”  
Sirius cracked a smile while he rolled up a bolt of fabric. Hermione grinned at Siria, who glared until Hermione looked back to the blue dress. “While you’re too brave for your own good, you’re also very cunning.” Hermione noted, “You’d have never gotten people to stop bullying Malfoy or figured out the Riddle, in our second year.”  
“To be fair, Ms. Ravenclaw, you figured out the Riddle, and I just made more trouble for him.” Siria sighed. She looked to Chloe. “So, I kind of love it.” She confessed. “When can I try it on?”  
“When it’s done.” Chloe knocked Siria’s hand away from the waist.  
Chloe fidget with the waist on Siria’s dress. It was made of a silver tulle that had been adorned with tiny, twinkling white-silver beads. They reminded Siria of stars. In a normal and calm pace, which was slow for Chloe, she asked “So, you’re all in Gryffindor?”  
“Yeah.” Siria nodded while she stepped back. “Red and gold, the grand and bold— don’t change a thing though!” Siria insisted. “I don’t know when I’ll get to wear it, but it’ll be like a smack to the face to some people.”  
“And Astoria will love it— she still thinks you like Malfoy.”  
“So I’ve read.” Siria sighed.  
The very thought of Astoria’s letters was both encouraging and exhausting. If anyone wanted to write more letters of quality than Astoria Greengrass, a Slytherin student who would be entering her second year, they would be extremely hard pressed to do so. Even though they had just finished the second week of summer, Astoria had written Siria three letters of no less than four pages. To be fair, the last page was usually a list of questions on things from Transfiguration to if Siria and Daphne, Astoria’s older sister, were best friends or just friends.   
Astoria was the reason that Siria received twenty letters in the two days after her adoption— Astoria had told everyone in the study group and most had written to congratulate her. Everyone had even been told she was now Potter-Black and addressed their letters as such. There was a very small part of Siria that felt, if she had met Slytherins like Astoria, she might not have told the Sorting Hat to put her in a different House.  
Siria looked from her dress to Hermione and the blue dress. “There are times I can’t believe we’re in the same House.” Siria confessed. Hermione smiled at her.  
“I may have put in a request,” a blush colored Hermione’s cheeks, as if asking to be in a certain House was rebellious.  
“Metoo.” Siria grumbled through closed teeth.  
“Hm?”  
“I said ‘cool’!” Siria turned away from the dresses and practically power walked to Sirius’s side. “So, these don’t look like Christmas dresses…” he smirked and tapped her nose. She was a little surprised when all Sirius said in reply was “Observant, as usual.”   
When the sun rose, Chloe let the girls try the dresses on. She managed not to prick them while she pinned the dresses for adjustments. Sirius confessed it was a miracle because she regularly stuck a pin through him. They invited Chloe for breakfast, but she insisted there was too much work. Just before Sirius closed the door, Chloe shouted after them “don’t forget! You two promised me a pair of hands!” Sirius groaned and let the door close.  
Without needing to be asked, Sirius answered. “Remus won’t be going to the World Cup with us. To be fair, we had told Chloe we were going camping.”  
“And Christmas?” Siria asked.  
“You’ll want to stay at Hogwarts.” He replied. Siria crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “If you want to know, you’ll have to seal your lips.” Sirius mimed zipping his mouth closed.  
“Your ‘Cocoloquim Signal’?” Siria asked him while she mimicked waving a wand.  
“Colloquium Signati,” He corrected. Siria turned to Hermione.  
“He made a spell that makes it so people can’t talk about what’s said.” Siria explained.  
“Oh!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’d love to see that.”  
“Okay,” Sirius nodded and looked to Siria, “But you’ll be making an Unbreakable Vow too.”  
“What? Why?”

After breakfast, the optometrist, another trip to Moony & Padfoot, they finally returned to Grimmauld Place for Kreacher’s feast. Siria waited until they finished cleaning up. She looked over the rim of her glasses, at Hermione, who nodded. With eyes turned away, as if to say she was only casually interested, Siria said “Oh, yeah. You never said why Chloe’s making the dresses.”  
“Colloquium Signati,” Sirius told her, flatly.  
“To be fair, I would rather like to see it.” Hermione confessed.  
“We won’t be able to tell anyone— can’t even talk to each other.” Siria said while she took hold of Kreacher’s hand.  
Hermione said that was perfectly fine with her. The four retired to the small library, where Sirius explained how he and Remus spent years after Siria’s parents died, working on a spell to prevent that. They designed the spell to stop the sealed topic from being brought up or added to. If a person outside the sealed topic brought it up, anyone who had the topic sealed couldn’t add to the conversation, nod, or even shake their head. So far, they had only used it to prevent Moony & Padfoot designs from being leaked and when they tested it on themselves.  
Inside, Siria knew she should be impressed with the spell. Afterall, it was the result of years of her father’s and his best friend’s lives, but that was what bothered her. Remus and Sirius were practically haunted by the deaths of James and Lily Potter. For as impressed as she felt she should be, she was worried that Remus and Sirius wouldn’t recover… she was worried that, when Tom Riddle inevitably returned and murders began, she wouldn’t recover.  
“Now, Siria, Unbreakable Vow.” Sirius directed his attention to his daughter.  
“No!” Siria pouted and plopped herself over Hermione’s lap. She buried her head into the arm of the chair. “What if I really, really, really want to do the thing?”  
“I’ll die of worry.” He crossed his arms.  
“Come on,” Sirius managed to wrestle Siria onto her feet. He knelt down and took her hand; she looked to Hermione, sighed, and mirrored Sirius. Hermione stood over them, with her wand pulled out.  
“Are you sure?” Hermione asked.  
“I really want to know and not knowing will drive me crazy.” Siria confessed. Sirius made her vow that she would not sign up and would not have someone else sign her up for the event he was about to inform them of. Siria sighed, groaned, and rolled her eyes, but agreed to both things.  
“Alright then,” Sirius patted her on the shoulder and rose to his feet. “Ready?” Sirius asked. Siria nodded while she leaned against the armchair where Hermione sat. He pointed his wand at Siria first and, with the motion of a “S” circling back up to its top, he clearly stated “Col-lo-quium Sig-nati,” then the same to Hermione. Sirius grinned like a child with a new toy.   
“Hogwarts will be hosting the Triwizard Tournament.” Sirius informed them. Siria gave him a bored look that read “so?” but Hermione gasped.  
“That’s so dangerous!” Hermione exclaimed and looked from Sirius to Siria. “I’d have you make an Unbreakable Vow too.”  
“Okay, but, aside from dangerous, what is the Triwizard Tournament?” Siria asked. Hermione seized the reigns of the conversation.  
“It’s a competition, of sorts, between Beauxbaton, Durmstrang, and Hogwarts— Europe’s most prominent Wizarding schools. A champion is chosen from each school to compete in a series of tasks to test things like their courage, wits, and general spell ability.” She explained to Siria while Sirius nodded along and Kreacher dusted the shelves with disinterest. “Oh! The dresses are for the Yule Ball! Of course.” Hermione nodded. “On Christmas, a feast is hosted, followed by the Ball, which is meant to highlight the most important purpose of the Tournament— unity and forming good relations.”  
Sirius fiddled with the papers on his desk for a moment long enough to tell Siria he had stopped listening. “Right,” he nodded to Hermione. “The Yule Ball. Maybe Travers will come to her senses and go with you.” Sirius smiled to his daughter. She rolled her eyes and sat on the floor, against the bookshelf.  
“Her senses are fine.” Siria pulled Kreacher into her lap and cradled him like he was a large toddler. “I’m kind of over her…” she hoped more than she knew. After talking with Sirius and Hermione, she felt now, more than ever, that she didn’t stand a chance.  
Kreacher smiled a large grin up at Siria and patted her arm. “Mistress will get better partner.” He assured her. She nuzzled the top of her head to his and smiled back.  
“Thank you, Kreacher.”  
“We could always go together.” Hermione suggested. “You, me, Ron, and Neville.”  
“Neville!” Siria stopped nuzzling Kreacher and looked, wide-eyed to Hermione. “I gotta get him a birthday gift!” One would think, with Neville sharing her birthday, Siria would know it well. Somehow, she always seemed to forget it when it during the summer, but remember in the fall.  
Sirius clicked his tongue and waved his finger in a tsking manner. With a wave of his wand and “Finis!” Sirius ended where the conversation would be sealed to. “Now then, no worries, daughter dearest. Your father happens to have an extra ticket for the Quidditch World Cup. Even if he were going, there no way his Gran’ got Top Box seats.”


	3. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes

**Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes**   


When the girls stepped off the Knight Bus, at the Burrow they were exhausted. Siria in particular was relieved that Sirius had bewitched her bag to be just as large on the inside as her trunk’s storage room. It meant that the lot of them had one messenger bag that felt empty. Neville kept looking around, like he had never seen anything as amazing as the Burrow, which Siria couldn’t blame him for. The very air around the Burrow felt magical. Remus and Sirius stepped off the Knight Bus and ushered them onto the grounds. Ron ran out, waving madly at them.  
“Oi!” Ron called to them as he hurried across the grounds. Siria gave a heavy sigh because, though Ron had always been taller than her and Hermione, he had grown even more since term ended. Hermione and Siria had to tilt their heads up to look him in the eyes. He laughed. “I look like your big brother.” Ron nudged Siria, who, for the occasion, had Transfigured her hair to the flaming red of her mother’s, which matched many of the Weasley’s.  
If one only went by hair, Ron could be her brother. However, even with her hair red, Siria felt she looked more like Sirius’s daughter than Ron’s sister. She made a point of standing the way Sirius did, which is to stay as straight and tall as she possibly could. Ron had a habit of slouching, as Hermione often did, but Hermione’s slouch was from the weight of the small library she carried everywhere.  
“Minus the freckles,” Siria told him. She rubbed along her nose and cheek while she pictured what she would look like with freckles. “I wonder if—”  
“Your hair is enough,” Sirius patted her head. “Come on,” He nudged Siria toward the Burrow with one hand while he corralled Neville with the other. “I’ve something to ask Molly.”  
“You might not want to,” Ron told him. Remus looked from Ron to Sirius with a raised eyebrow. “She thinks you’re the one helping Fred and George.”  
“Helping with what?” Hermione asked and looked to Siria, who shrugged.  
“What?” Sirius asked far too loud. “If I were helping them with something, shouldn’t she be happy they weren’t doing it alone?” Remus sighed and rubbed his forehead as he opened the door for their party.  
“Sirius!” The sharp voice of Mrs. Weasley snapped the moment the door opened.  
“Mrs. Weasley!” Siria slid her bag onto the floor and rushed forward to hug and be hugged. Mrs. Weasley gave Siria a tight squeeze, but glared over Siria’s head of messy red hair, at Sirius. When she broke apart the hug, her expression had softened. Mrs. Weasley placed a hand on Siria’s cheek. “You look just like Lily.” She smiled at her.  
Mrs. Weasley took the time to hug everyone, Sirius included. She instructed Ron to show everyone their rooms— Hermione and Siria would be staying with Ginny, and Neville would be with Ron. When they reached the landing of Ginny’s room, Mrs. Weasley broke into a roar downstairs. Neville jumped, which caused him to stumble forward and into Hermione. Ron and Siria caught the two just in time to fall to the floor with them. Ginny’s door creaked open.  
“Are you alright?” Ginny asked them with her gaze intently at her feet.  
“We just fell— how are we alright?” Ron groaned as he pulled himself to his feet. Hermione and Ginny helped Neville up.  
“Sorry.” Neville grumbled.  
“What is your mum yelling about?” Siria asked and leaned over the railing. Footsteps thundered down the stairs, toward them. Hermione, Neville and Ron rushed into Ginny’s room while Siria pressed herself to railing, to avoid being trampled by Fred and George. Siria tossed her bag through the doorway and ran after them.  
“It wasn’t him!” Fred shouted as he dashed into the kitchen.  
“Honestly!” cried George.  
“Wasn’t it?” Mrs. Weasley shouted. “He already confessed!” Sirius, who was lazily leaning against a counter with his arms crossed, gave a half shrug.  
“Confessed to what?” Siria asked as she looked around the room.  
“Siria, dear,” Mrs. Weasley soothed, “everything is fine.”  
“Good!” Fred, George, and Sirius chorused.  
“Not for you lot!” She snapped and pointed at Sirius in particular. “How could you encourage them like this?”  
“It isn’t his fault!” George told her. Fred opened his mouth, but Sirius raised his hand to instruct the twins to back down.  
“Molly,” Sirius began in the calm, level tone he used when Siria wasn’t in trouble, but their talk was to be serious. “You were right to suspect me for supplying the boys and encouraging their pursuits.” Mrs. Weasley continued to glare at him. She, like the rest of the room, could sense the coming “but” clause. “I could have asked you, but you would have said ‘no’. We know you want them to work at the Ministry, but have you ever asked them what they want?”  
“A joke shop!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “A joke shop, Sirius! What’s going to happen to them?” Fred and George looked from each other to Sirius. Sirius’s kind grey eyes were firm; Siria knew he was in their corner, so she stepped forward to stand with the twins.  
“Molly, they know what they’re doing. Though they’re still sixteen, they’ve got good business sense. Come next year or the year after, Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes will have taken the Wizarding World by storm.”  
“What?” Siria whispered to the twins, under Mrs. Weasley’s shouts at Sirius.  
“Our joke shop” George told her.  
“Mum found our order forms.” said Fred.  
“Burned the whole lot,” George signed.  
“Been on a rampage ever since.” finished Fred.  
“But you two would have the best joke shop ever.” Siria said. George patted her on the back.  
“Thanks red.” Fred smiled at her. She looked from George to Fred, then Sirius and Mrs. Weasley.  
“What about their internship?” Siria asked, a little louder than Mrs. Weasley’s voice. She gulped when the eyes in the room fell on her. Hesitantly and now unsure, she reached to scratch the back of her neck, before catching herself and instead linking her hands in front of her. Behind her, footsteps stopped and she felt the added weight of more eyes.  
“Sirius was talking about having Fred and George intern, at his company.” Siria turned her green eyes to Sirius with a pointed expression. “So they could see what running a business is like and get some hands on experience.” She turned her gaze to Mrs. Weasley. “You know how Sirius works a Muggle job, well he was saying the skills are helpful and…”  
“The job I’ve offered you.” Sirius said as level as if he had talked about it with Siria. “I’ve offered you in the job for years, but you always turn me down. I was hoping to extend it to Fred and George, for next summer.” Mrs. Weasley looked around from Sirius to Siria then to Remus. Remus smiled kindly at her.  
“It’s why I’m here as well.” Remus lied. “So I could tell you what all they would be doing and we could discuss it thoroughly. We are, of course, hoping to have Ron join as well. We’re waiting on the Granger’s reply for next summer, but Hermione,” Hermione froze behind Siria as the eyes in the room turned to her, “what did you think of your time this summer?”  
“Oh?” Hermione asked. She scanned around the room. “Well, you know. It’s very standard stuff, for Muggles, but I found it very helpful. There’s a lot of work with technology— computers and such, and it’s all very good.” From behind Siria, Hermione pinched the back of Siria’s shirt.  
“Absolutely!” Siria exclaimed and looked to Mrs. Weasley. “I learned so much at Moony & Padfoot and can’t wait for next year.” Mrs. Weasley sighed as she scanned the room, but she resigned. Somehow, Sirius managed to snowball it from the twins and Ron working at Moony & Padfoot over summer to Mrs. Weasley working there part time during the school year. While Remus and Sirius explained what her work would consist of and how she would absolutely still have time to take care of things at home, Sirius stole a wink to Fred, George, and Siria, who quietly and slowly snuck everyone back up the stairs and all the way to Ron’s room.  
“Thank Merlin!” Fred sighed when he closed the door after George.  
“Moony & Padfoot?” George asked Siria with a meaningful look. Siria gave a single nod.  
“That Moony & Padfoot?” Fred whispered.  
“Yes.” She hissed through closed teeth before asking Ron, who was taking a seat on his bed. “Who all is staying here?”  
“Us.” George told her while Fred slung an arm around her shoulder.  
“We’re not done.” He whispered.  
“Yeah.” said Ron. “Me, Neville, Fred and George. Bill and Charlie got Fred and George’s room and Percy gets his to himself.”  
“For his important Ministry work,” George told them.  
“Can’t be disturbed at all!” Fred rolled his eyes.

When they were called down to prepare for dinner, two people Siria had never seen, but knew immediately, were outside (B4, 52). Bill and Charlie Weasley had just finished setting up the tables and chairs. Hermione, Neville, and Siria introduced themselves.  
(Book: B4, 52 Charlie looks like the twins, but is calloused and has a few burns. Bill is “cool” and would fit right in at a rock concert)  
They were setting the table when Remus and Sirius came into the yard. Sirius kissed the top of Siria’s forehead and she sighed. “Already?”  
“I’ll see you at the Cup.” He reminded her. Siria sighed again and her eyes fell to the seat she was setting. “Come on, it should be exciting— you’re taking your first Portkey.”  
“I don’t know what that is, but feel like I’m not going to like it.” She said.  
“It’s not worse than Apparating.” Sirius assured her while he patted her messy, red hair. Siria knocked his hand away. She sighed again, but hugged him. “Have a good day at work,” Siria waved to Remus and Sirius as they Disapperated with a CRACK.   
(Book: B4, 60-62 the tables are weighed under by all the food, Percy complains that Ludo Bagman hasn’t looked for Bertha Jorkins at all and that Percy’s boss, Barty Crouch, has taken a personal interest. Percy also talks about the “top secret” event, which Ron says is probably an exhibition on thick-bottomed cauldrons)

Hermione caught Siria’s eye and gave her an apologetic glance. Siria gave a very subtle shrug. There was a chance Sirius would remove the conversation's seal or else stop by Hogwarts to remove it, once Dumbledore had announced it. Either way, they couldn’t say anything now. The very thought of saying something caused Siria’s tongue to stick to the roof of her mouth.  
(Book: B4, 62-64 Mrs. Weasley wants to cut Bill’s hair, but he and Ginny like it how it is. Charlie lets Siria know how the Quidditch season played out. Mrs. Weasley sends them to bed— obviously, they don’t talk about Sirius or Siria’s scar)


	4. The Portkey

**The Portkey**   


Siria slept soundlessly on the spare bed of Ginny’s room with Hermione. She was blissfully unaware of Mrs. Weasley trying to wake her. It wasn’t until Hermione tried to lift the mattress and roll Siria onto the floor that she stirred in the slightest. Even then, it was a soft, quiet, grumble as she dropped from the bed. Hermione tsked. “I’ll handle it.” She told Mrs. Weasley, who went to wake the boys. Ginny took the pillow, as Hermione had instructed, and whaked Siria the moment Hermione yanked the comforter.  
“AH!” Siria screamed and flailed her arms as she tried to grab the pillow and comforter, failing to get either. “Urgh.” She groaned when she realized what had happened. “It’s so early.” Her tired voice croaked. As if she hadn’t slept at all, Siria fumbled through the morning activities of dressing, eating, and checking her bag.  
Mr. Weasley spread his arms so that they could see his clothes more clearly (B4, 65). He was sporting a pair of fitted jeans with a pale blue, short sleeved button up, and one of Mrs. Weasley’s knitted sweaters. “What d’you think?” he asked anxiously. “Sirius gave me a box to mix n’ match, but…”  
“You look perfectly Muggle” Hermione assured him. Siria was positively beaming. Mr. Weasley’s shirt was patterned with the white outline of tiny pawprints that gave the appearance of just making the blue look lighter. There was almost no way that the shirt was made by anyone other than Moony & Padfoot.  
“Good, good,” Mr. Weasley grinned and looked to Siria, “you know, Fudge actually commissioned Sirius to make a stock Muggle clothes for the event, so everyone could go incognito.”  
“Yeah?” Siria tried to keep her tone casual. There was something extremely gratifying to her about this.  
(Book: B4, 68-71 Mrs. Weasley catches George and Fred trying to sneak some of their creations out, but she confiscates at least the Ton-Tongue Toffee. The twins tell her it took them six months to make those & she says it’s no wonder they didn’t get more O.W.L.s. They part on poor terms.  
Mr. Weasley explains the work that went into planning and organizing the Quidditch World Cup, such as finding a place large enough, putting up Anti-Muggle Charms, and people with cheaper tickets having to arrive earlier. They learn a Portkey can be anything. Amos Diggory finds it and Mr. Weasley introduces Amos to the group “And I think you know his son, Cedric”, who is handsome and about seventeen)

“Hi” said Cedric, looking around at them all (B4, 71). While everyone said hi back, Siria elbowed George in the side. She knew he and Fred hadn’t forgiven Cedric for beating them, but it wasn’t his fault they had lost (B4, 71). Quietly and late, Fred and George grumbled back a quiet “‘lo” that ended up being lost under Amos Diggory saying how he couldn’t wait for Cedric to pass his Apparition test because they had to wake up at two this morning (B4, 72).  
“Still,” said Amos Diggory, “I’m not complaining…. Quidditch World Cup, wouldn’t miss it for a sackful of Galleons—and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy…” Amos Diggory peered good-naturedly around at them and asked “All these yours, Arthur?” (B4,72).  
“Oh no, all but one of the redheads,” said Mr. Weasley. He pointed out Fred, George, Ginny, and Ron. “These are friends of Ron’s, Hermione, Neville, and Siria.”  
“Merlin’s beard,” said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening, “Siria Potter?” Siria opened her mouth to correct him, but Cedric beat her to it.  
“Potter-Black, dad” Cedric nodded to Siria. She smiled in reply.  
“Yes, yes” Amos dismissed it “Ced’s told me all about you, of course.” Cedric gave Siria a rather apologetic look. She could sense what was coming: the Quidditch match.  
In last year’s match of Hufflepuff against Gryffindor, Cedric had caught the Snitch. Siria had been distracted, first with her anger, and second by three figures that looked like dementors who walked onto the field. In her effort to make sure the dementors went away, Siria had missed the Snitch. The very thought made Siria feel like her ears were smoking, but she tried to calm herself down by thinking about how she would beat him this year, if they even had Quidditch.  
“Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman, but the best man won, I’m sure Siria’d say the same…” said Amos (B4, 73). Siria tried to smile, but felt her face contort as Amos continued that “one catches the Snitch, the other doesn’t, you don’t need to be a genius to tell which is the better Seeker.” (B4, 73). Ron placed his hand on Siria’s shoulder, while Hermione linked her arm with Siria’s other. “You’ll beat him this year,” Ron mouthed to her. Siria bit back how willing she was to have a rematch any time and prove she was the better Seeker.  
Mr. Weasley tackfully moved the conversation onto that it was almost time to take the Portkey. Siria got smooshed between Ron and Hermione, as the ten of them attempted to all have a finger on the boot with their bulky bags. She was a little relieved that Hermione’s and Ginny’s things were in bewitched messenger bag because it was already a tight squeeze for them.  
(Book: B4, 73-74 Via the Portkey, they’re jerked around and transported to the World Cup, where most of them fall to the ground. Two Ministry Wizards cross them off a list.)


	5. Bagman and Crouch

**Bagman and Crouch**   


Both were dressed as Muggles, in jeans and polos. Siria smirked at the small logo of a paw print on a moon. “Are you alright?” Cedric asked Neville as he helped him off the ground while Mr. Weasley greeted the wizards. “Thanks” Neville muttered while he patted himself down. The Ministry wizards directed the parties toward their tents. “See you at school,” Cedric nodded as he left with his father.  
(Book: B4, 76-84 The party make it to Mr. Roberts’s field, pay, and a Ministry wizard has to Obliviate Mr. Roberts because he knows something odd is happening. Mr. Roberts gets “ten” memory Charms a day, in part because Ludo Bagman keeps talking loudly about Quidditch. Mr. Weasley confesses that Ludo has always been a little lax about the rules. Hermione, Siria, and Mr. Weasley manage to get the tents up. Hermione, Neville, Ron, & Siria go to get water, which lets them walk around, see young kids growing up in magic families, wizards from other places, chat with Seamus and Dean [who are supporting Ireland] & that shamrocks cover the tents of the Irish supporters while Viktor Krum scowls on the Bulgarian supporter’s tents. While waiting for water, they overhear an exchange between a ministry wizard & a man named Archie, who is wearing a woman’s nightgown because he likes “a healthy breeze ‘round his privates, thanks.” Hermione has to leave the line in a fit of giggles. They run into Oliver Wood, who has joined the Puddlemere United reserve team. Then they see Ernie Macmillan)  
“Potter-Black!” Ernie gripped Siria’s hand in a firm shake. She had to put down the water she was carrying.  
“You can just call me Siria,” she told him as she turned to shake his mother’s hand. Mrs. Macmillan smiled brightly at Siria and shook her hand.  
“It’s so nice to meet you.” Mrs. Macmillan told Siria. “You must Hermione, Ron, and Neville” Mrs. Macmillan extended her hand to shake each of theirs. “Ernie’s told me so much about you,” she smiled. Neville’s blush went unnoticed as Mrs. Macmillan patted her son’s shoulder. “It’s lovely, what you’re doing.”  
Hermione looked to Siria with accusing eyes, but Siria only replied with a small shrug. “What are we doing?” Neville asked quietly.  
“The study group!” Mrs. Macmillan chuckled. “We had one back in my day, much smaller mind you, but we could only ever get one Slytherin to join— it’s difficult to promote school-unity when you can’t get good numbers.” Siria felt a blush creep across her face. She didn’t know what to say. Hermione shook Mrs. Macmillan’s hand again and thanked her.  
They heard Siria’s name called across the way and all turned. Siria quickly turned back to Mrs. Macmillan. “It’s been really nice to meet you!” Siria inisited before she ran toward the man that called her name. “Sirius!” she hissed when they were only a few tents apart. He dropped all sense of composure and pulled Siria into a back-cracking hug. She groaned. “Let go!”  
The two back tracked to the Macmillan’s tent to collect the water she had been carrying, which Sirius took over after introducing himself to Ernie and Mrs. Macmillan. “Maryann,” Sirius greeted her with a smile. Mrs. Macmillan clicked her tongue and waved him away. “You haven’t changed.” She told him. Siria watched her father’s smile waiver for a blink before regaining its playful tone. Sirius quickly corralled them away.  
Once they were out of earshot and hurrying along, Sirius sighed. “Honestly, do you know how worried I was when I heard how long you’d been gone?”  
“We ran into some people” Siria told him as she, Hermione, Neville, and Ron waved to some other people from the study group. “What are you so jumpy about?”  
“Did you already forget about your dream?” Sirius asked in a hushed tone. Reflexively, Siria stroked her scar. It didn’t even tingle.  
When they returned to the tent, Sirius ushered Siria inside. “Siria, there are Death Eaters that aren’t in Azkaban— plenty of them avoided capture.” Sirius said in a dark tone.  
“You think they’d do something to me here? Sirius, the place is crawling with Ministry Wizards.” Siria protested. “Besides,” she patted the lining of her jacket, where her wand was concealed “if push came to shove…” Sirius sighed, but hugged her. She patted her father’s back. “It’s going to be okay.” Siria smiled. “I’m tough as nails, like my parents.”  
Sirius sighed, but couldn’t hide his grin or his pride. “Alright,” he said and broke apart the hug to pat his pockets. “Happy Birthday,” He told her as he presented a small gift box. Siria tapped her glasses frames. “Um, dad.” She smirked.  
“You’ll like these even more.” Sirius assured her as she accepted the box. Siria peered cracked the gift box, which Sirius had stuffed to the brim with tissue paper. She sat down at the table and emptied it out. Two thin boxes fell onto the table and Siria gasped.  
“Contacts! You got me contacts?” Siria cried.  
“Are you happy? I can’t tell” Sirius confessed while he scanned her face.  
“Happy?” Siria practically shouted as she shook the boxes in her hands “When can I put them on? How do I put them on? Is there a spell that means I don’t have to poke my eye?” She said all of this rather quickly and in a single breath while she looked from Sirius to the boxes.

(Book: B4, 85-92 Mr. Weasley runs a commentary for Hermione, Neville, Siria as Ministry Wizards run around, trying to keep magic on the downlow. He mentions Unspeakables, which are people that work at the Department of Mysteries. They have lunch when the others arrive. Ludo Bagman stops by, is introduced to everyone, then asks if anyone wants to bet on the match. Fred & George put all they have and a fake wand. Ludo says he still hasn’t seen Bertha, but isn’t worried. Barty Crouch Apparates, calls Percy “Weatherby”. Ludo hints that they have another event after the Quidditch World Cup, which they’ll know about soon enough.)

“See you all later!” Bagman said (B4, 92). Sirius placed his hand on Bagman’s arm and pulled him in close enough whisper. Siria leaned in to hear, but Sirius used his other arm to keep her back. Bagman’s face seemed to drain of its color, which became more obvious when Sirius leaned back into his seat.  
“Right,” Bagman waved. He spared another look to Sirus before Disapparating with Barty Crouch.  
(Book: B4, 92-93 Fred asks what’s happening at Hogwarts, Percy tells them it’s classified, Fred shuts Percy up by calling him “Weatherby”. Excitement is in the air and there’s no way to keep magic quiet with all the salesmen Apparating around. There are scarfs, tiny figures of players, hats with dancing shamrocks, mini Firebolt models, and Omnioculars, which look like brass binoculars, but can pause, reply, and provide a play-by-play)  
“Five pairs, please” Siria requested, but Sirius placed called out “Twelve!” Siria looked over her shoulder at him, but Sirius was already pulling out the Galleons. “No one gets a Christmas present, not even you.” Sirius winked at her. Siria seriously doubted he wouldn’t send anything, but smiled at him.  
“Sure, dad.” She nodded as he handed her one of the freshly bought pairs of Omnioculars. Sirius passed the others around until everyone had a pair.  
(Book: B4, 94 Hermione gets them programs, Mr. Weasley ushers everyone onward because it’s time)


	6. The Quidditch World Cup

**The Quidditch World Cup**   


(Book: B4, 95-99 They head up the giant stadium to the top box. There are advertisements and, sitting behind them in the top box is Winky, who knows Dobby and says that Siria shouldn’t have set him free because he wants to be paid and Siria argues that Dobby should be paid. Winky says house elves aren’t meant to be paid or have fun; she’s all the way up here, even though she’s afraid of heights because they’re meant to do what they’re told)  
“Could we give Dobby a job?” Siria asked Sirius as she turned forward in her seat.  
“What would Kreacher say if he had another house elf?” Sirius asked. “He’d die of heartbreak.”  
“Fair.” Siria said in a slow questioning manner that revealed she wasn’t fully convinced.  
“Dumbledore’ll probably hire Dobby. He’s been trying to pay the Hogwarts house elves—” Sirius was cut off by Hermione’s gasp. Hermione extended herself over Siria to hiss “Hogwarts house elves!” at Sirius in outrage.  
“Who do you think made your meals?” Sirius asked in a tone that implied “how else,” which Siria felt was fair. Mrs. Weasley could cook for an army, but they would need an army of Mrs. Weasleys to feed all of Hogwarts.  
“There was nothing about house elves in Hogwarts, A History!” Hermione exclaimed.  
“‘Mione, if you’re gonna argue with my dad, will you at least switch seats with me?” Siria asked.  
“Siria!” Hermione hissed. “Sirius knows exactly how mistreated house elves are— he’s had one all his life—”   
“He isn’t responsible for the mistreatment of house elves!” Siria snapped. Hermione leaned back into her own seat and Siria leaned out of hers. “Neville, trade places with me.” Siria requested and got to her feet, “please.” Neville looked like he would rather spend a night in the Forbidden Forest.  
“Siria,” Sirius scolded.  
“‘Mione’s not going to lean over him!” Siria snapped as she sat down on the other side of Ron.   
Hermione huffed and turned her head away from Siria’s direction. Siria clicked her tongue and sunk into her seat. Ron held up his Omnioculars and looked around. “Wild! I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again.. And again…” (B4, 99).  
“Yeah?” Siria asked a little more shortly than she intended.  
“Look!” Ron continued to replay the scene until Siria broke into a smile.  
“Gross!” She chucked and leaned back into her seat.  
(Book: B4 99-100 Hermione notes that a display of the team mascots will precede the match, & Mr. Weasley says it’s worth the watch. Cornelius Fudge, the British Minister of Magic greets Siria like a friend, which makes Percy jealous. Fudge tries to introduce the Bulgarian minister to Siria)  
“Siria Potter, you know” Fudge said loudly (B4, 100). Sirius sighed, rose to his feet and lifted the hair on Siria’s forehead. The lighting bolt scar drew the Bulgarian minister’s eyes. He pointed and exclaimed loudly.  
“It’s Potter-Black, now, Fudge.” Sirius shot a glare over the top of Siria’s head and let her hair fall back over her scar. Siria ran her fingers through her Transfigured red hair and hid the scar some.  
“Right you are, Siria Potter-Black.” Fudge gave a short smile, which widened as his eyes returned to Siria.  
“Ah, Lucius!” Fudge greeted just as warmly as he greeted Siria. They turned to see three people taking the empty seats behind Mr. Weasley, who were Dobby’s former owners (B4, 100). Mr. Weasley, Sirius, and Lucius Malfoy scowled at each other as they put on polite smiles. Sirius tightened his grip on Siria’s shoulder. If she were to guess, she’d say Lucius Malfoy was one of the Death Eaters to avoid Azkaban.  
Draco Malfoy and Siria had once been friends. It had been short lived. She didn’t know what they were now, but, as she stood a row of seats from him, she felt like they were oceans apart. Siria gave a quiet click of her tongue; their friendship might have been salvageable if she never had to listen to the Pureblood ideals he spewed as casually as he breathed.  
His cold silver eyes and pale blond hair were the mirror of his father’s. Mrs. Malfoy was a tall and slim blonde woman; she would have been very attractive, if she wasn’t wearing a nasty look that implied there was a terrible smell under her nose (B4, 101). She placed a protective hand on her son’s shoulder, which mirrored how Sirius stood behind Siria.

(Book: B4, 101-102 Lucius introduces his family to Fudge. When Fudge isn’t listening, Lucius makes a comment that Arthur couldn’t possibly have gotten enough money from selling his house to afford tickets. Lucius gave a huge donation to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, so he’s Fudge’s guest. Hermione stares determinedly at Lucius, who’s lip curls at the sight of her because they believe Purebloods are better than other wizards.)  
“Nice hair.” Malfoy mouthed at Siria. She resisted the urge to tackle him to the floor and pummel him black and blue by giving her fiercest glare. He cocked his head up in reply and took his seat. Siria bit back every insult she wanted to give and traded it for her widest smile.  
“It was so nice to see you again, minister.” Siria told Fudge in the sweetest voice she could manage.  
“A pleasure,” Fudge extended his hand and Siria shook it with a smile. “Congratulations, Ms. Potter-Black.” He gave a distracted laugh before breaking the handshake. The moment Fudge’s back was turned, Siria winked at Draco.  
“It’s fine.” Siria waved off Sirius’s hand and sat back down, in Neville’s original seat. “I’m going to crush him.” Siria told Ron. Ron nodded.  
“If you play anything like last year, Malfoy won’t stand a chance.” Ron encouraged. She wanted to tell him she didn’t just mean in Quidditch, but Ludo Bagman’s voice boomed through the field.  
(Book: B4, 102-103 The Quidditch World Cup starts with the mascot displays. The veela come out and start dancing, which causes a lot of people to prepare to do foolish things)

Ron’s head clanked into Siria’s as Sirius pulled them both back down. The two looked to each other. Ron looked just as surprised as she was. Neither remembered getting to their feet or so dangerously close to jumping over the side. Siria looked, wide-eyed, to Sirius, who seemed completely unaffected, like Mr. Weasley, Neville, and Hermione.  
“Veela,” Sirius told them, matter of factly. Anger echoed through the stadium (B4, 103). “You’re a sucker for a pretty face.” He told the two of them. Neville and Hermione scooted down so Siria and Ron were boxed in by them and Sirius. “Try and plug your ears next time, it’ll help.” Siria felt the blush weighing in her face.  
(Book: B4, 103-116 the leprechauns do their show and the Quidditch World Cup begins. The Irish Chasers are amazing. Victor Krum is the better Seeker, with his Wronski Feint and tactics. Although Krum gets the Snitch, Ireland wins, which is what the twins predicted, so they go to Bagman to collect their earnings.  
Mr. Weasley tells the twins not to tell their mother they gambled & decides it’s best not to ask about their plans for it. They have a cup of cocoa before bed, and stop when Ginny falls asleep at the table. Siria dreams of being a professional Quidditch player)


	7. The Dark Mark

**The Dark Mark**   


“Siria!” Sirius’s voice hissed as Siria was pried from the top bunk, like a child from their carseat. “Get up.” He thrust her jacket into her hands. They had hardly gone to sleep. Sirius shook Ginny awake while Hermione looked to Siria with an expression draped in worry. Outside, people were screaming and running (B4, 119).  
“Lumos!” Siria lit her wand and looked for her glasses. “What’s going on?” She asked as Hermione and Ginny pulled their coats over their pajamas.  
“It’ll be fine,” Sirius told her. Siria put her glasses on and looked to his face. It was the expression from last summer— the one that made her feel he thought she was going to disappear. They stumbled out of the tent and into the others.  
(Book: B4, 119 Death Eaters are levitating Mr. Roberts [the renter] and his family. The Roberts family is being contorted, spun, and flipped in the air. There are other wizards, joining, laughing, and pointing at the Roberts)  
Sirius held Siria’s shoulders and looked square into her face. “We’re going to help the ministry, but you need to get Hermione out of sight.” He tapped Siria’s head and the red turned to its natural jet black. “Go into the woods and keep going. Wands at the ready, okay?” He instructed. Siria wanted to tell him to stay or come with them, but nodded and raised her illuminated wand.  
“See you soon.” She promised.  
“See you soon.” He echoed before he and Mr. Weasley ran after Bill, Charlie, and Percy, who sprinted toward the crowd.  
Immediately, Siria grabbed hold of Hermione’s hand. She looked into the worried brown eyes of Hermione’s face and gave a confident nod. “You heard him,” Siria told the others. “Wands at the ready.” They withdrew their wands as they ran toward the forest.  
“I— I left mine!” Neville cried. Siria groaned and looked to Ron. Ron gave Siria a nod.  
“I’ve got you, Neville.” Ron hurried to Neville’s side and they continued for the forest.  
They continued running until Neville cried out in pain, followed by Ron. Hermione and Siria let go of the other’s hand as they turned, wands raised. “Sorry.” Neville grumbled. He had tripped over a twisted tree root and tackled Ron to the ground in the process of trying to stop his own fall.  
“Well, I’m not surprised, Longbottom,” said a drawling voice from behind them (B4, 121).  
Siria rolled her eyes at the voice, as she helped Neville to his feet while Hermione lent Ron a hand. Draco Malfoy, as relaxed as ever, was leaning against a tree (B4,121). His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in them (B4, 121). Malfoy clicked his tongue while his gaze traveled over their group and fell on Hermione. “Shouldn’t you be hurrying along? You wouldn’t want her spotted, would you?” (B4, 121).  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” said Hermione defiantly (B4,122).  
“No.” Siria whispered. Sirius had told her to keep Hermione hidden. “Let’s get going.” She marched past Malfoy without sparing him a glance. Hermione and Ron glared at Malfoy when they past him. Neville kept his head down on the roots and himself as close to Ron as he could, without tripping over him.  
“Keep that big bushy head down, Granger,” Malfoy called (B4, 123). Hermione grabbed Ron’s arm to stop him from turning back.  
“We have to keep going.” Hermione told him. They continued into the forest.  
(Book: 123-126 They pass the Beauxbatons students, realize that they don’t have any sight of Fred, George or Ginny, and see Winky. Winky is trying to run away, but appears to be held back by an invisible person; Siria believes Winky may be disobeying Mr. Crouch, which would make her run funny. Hermione gets even more angry about it. The party crosses some Veela, who are surrounded by guys trying to impress them, including Stan Shunpike, from the Knight Bus. Ron loses himself for a moment and tells the Veela he invented a boomstick that can reach Jupiter. The party continues into the heart of the woods.)

“Can we stop?” Neville asked while he clutched his chest.  
“Not yet,” Siria told him, but Hermione jerked Siria’s arm. Siria clicked her tongue and scanned around. They had traveled deep enough into the woods that things felt still and were quiet.  
“We’re fine here.” Hermione urged. Neville sighed with relief and knelt onto the muddy ground of the woods. Ron paced around Hermione, Neville, and Siria with his wand out and his gaze on the woods they were surrounded by.  
A snap caused Neville to rize to his feet while Hermione, Ron, and Siria pointed their wands in the sound’s direction. “Stupefy!” Siria bellowed without a thought.  
“Lumos Maxima!” Hermione called. Her wand’s light increased and covered the stunned person in fair lighting.  
“Bagman?” Ron asked. “Siria,” he whacked her in the arm with the back of his hand, “you just stunned a Ministry official!” Wordlessly, Siria’s mouth opened and closed. She gestured to Ludo Bagman for a moment before pointing her wand and unstunned him with “Rennervate!”  
Bagman whipped his wand out the moment he fluttered back. He looked at them with wide-eyes until they fell on Siria’s scar, lit by Hermione’s wand. “What are you doing here, all alone?” (B4,126)  
(Book: B4, 126-129 Ludo Bagman is informed by the party about the riot and Disapparates away. Hermione notes he isn’t on top of things and Ron says that Bagman was a good Beater. They entertain themselves quietly, but Hermione is worried about the Roberts family. A snap in the trees draws their silence and attention. They call, but there’s no reply.  
From the woods, they hear the deep voice cast “Mosmordre.” The spell conjures a huge, green, skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth, like a tongue. In green smoke, it rises into the sky. Screams break out throughout the wood. Siria tries to get closer to where the spell was cast, but Hermione insists they have to run because it’s You-Know-Who/Voldemort/Tom Riddle’s mark. Just as they’re about to, twenty or so wizards arrive, wands at the ready and pointed at them.)

With a yank, Siria thrust Hermione down to the ground by her arm and with another pulled Neville. Ron dove as he and Siria cried “STOP!” but their plea was muffled by the bellow of twenty calls of “STUPEFY!” Siria’s grip tightened over her wand, which was in the hand thrown over Hermione’s back. Neville shuddered while waves of light fired over their heads. Ron pulled his arm over Neville’s back and Siria patted Ron’s arm.  
“Stop! STOP!” Two voices called from the crowd. “That’s my son!”  
“And my daughter!” cried two voices Siria would know anywhere. She stopped pinning Hermione and Neville down. Silence consumed the wood while Hermione, Neville, Ron and Siria rose to their feet. Mr. Weasley hugged his son before looking to Hermione and Neville. Sirius squeezed Siria so tightly her back popped. She winced and tried to pry herself from her father.  
“Siria,” Sirius whispered and pecked her head. “Thank Merlin.”  
“Out of the way, Arthur, Sirius,” said the cold, curt voice of Mr. Crouch (B4, 130).  
(Book: B4, 130-134 Crouch accuses the party of having cast the Dark Mark, but a witch tells Crouch it couldn’t have been the party because they’re kids and couldn’t have learned it from anywhere. When Hermione says someone cast it in the woods, Crouch says she’s very knowledgeable about summoning the Dark Mark, but no one else is convinced. Amos Diggory searches the woods and finds Winky and a wand. Crouch searches the woods, but appears to find no one else.  
Late to the scene, Ludo Bagman arrives. Winky is woken up, accused of casting the Dark Mark, and Amos tells Winky that she was found with the wand)

“My wand,” Neville cried. Everyone in the clearing looked at him (B4, 134). Hermione and Siria took a step closer to Neville.  
“I— I lost it” Neville looked from the group of witches and wizards to the ground.  
“Lost your wand?” asked Mr. Diggory.  
“He did!” shouted Ron. “He thought it was in the tent!”  
“It must’ve just fallen when we running!” Hermione added. Siria nodded and looked to Sirius and Mr. Weasley for help.  
Sirius placed a hand on Neville’s shoulder. “Longbottom here,” Sirius put so much emphasis on Neville’s last name that it was like when people repeated Siria’s, “wouldn’t cast the Mark, don’t you agree?” Mr. Diggory looked at Neville’s round face. Siria took hold of Neville’s hand and gave a firm squeeze. He was trembling.  
“Er— I suppose not.” mumbled Mr. Diggory (B4, 135).  
(Book: B4, 135-140 Unfortunately, the wand being Neville’s doesn’t help Winky at all. Amos Diggory casts “Prior Incantato”, which reveals that the Dark Mark was indeed cast with this wand. Mr. Crouch requests to see to Winky’s punishment, which will be clothes. Neville gets his wand back and they leave that part of the woods. Hermione is outraged & Mr. Weasley agrees with her. They ask what the Dark Mark meant and Mr. Weasley promises to explain at the tent.  
A crowd of witches and wizards hound Mr. Weasley with questions & he tells them it wasn’t Voldemort, the culprit Disapparated, & he’s going to bed. At the tent, Bill, Charlie, and Percy are in the boys’ with Fred, George, and Ginny. Bill’s arm is cut, Charlie’s shirt is torn, Percy has a bloody nose, but Fred, George, and Ginny uninjured.)

“Why don’t you take care of Percy?” Sirius directed Siria. “I’ll patch Bill and Charlie up.” he smiled. Siria pressed her lips together and clicked her tongue as marched to Percy and pointed her wand at his nose. He took his glasses off, but looked very worried. “You’ll be fine!” Siria rolled her eyes before “Episkey!” The blood stopped immediately and the bruising faded. Percy put his glasses back on. “Thank you, but—” Siria sighed and went to sit by Hermione, who was settled down with Ginny and Neville.  
(Book: B4, 140-144 Mr. Weasley tells Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, & Ginny how the person that cast the Mark got away. Hermione repeats that people were scared of the Dark Mark because it was You-Know-Who/Voldemort/Tom Riddle’s mark. Mr. Weasley adds that it was cast when someone was killed and that there was nothing worse than going home to find that Mark and know what you were about to see. The Dark Mark hadn’t been seen in 13 years. Fortunately, it seemed to scare away the Death Eaters, Voldemort’s followers, whether that was the intention of the caster, they can’t say.  
It’s 3am, they’re sent to bed to catch an early Portkey. Siria is wide awake because only three days ago, she had the nightmare about Tom Riddle in the house with Wormtail.)

Hermione threw her comforter onto Siria’s bed. “What?” Siria hissed into the dark.  
“I’m not sleeping alone, after that!” Hermione snapped as she climbed the ladder. Siria moved against the bed frame and rolled onto her side. Hermione crawled in beside Siria. She threw her comforter over their heads. “Do you suppose it has anything to do with your dream?” Hermione asked in a whisper. Siria shrugged.  
“I wondered the same thing.” she confessed.


	8. Mayhem At The Ministry

**Mayhem At The Ministry**   


(Book: B4, 145 They take an early morning Portkey & get back to the Burrow, where Mrs. Weasley is relieved they’re all alive and was so worried the last thing she’d ever tell the twins was that they didn’t get enough O.W.L.s. Inside, Mr. Weasley learns that Rita Skeeter claimed that there were bodies removed from the forest and that he was quoted. He decides it would be best for him to go to the Ministry, which Mrs. Weasley protests because it’s his vacation and it isn’t even his department, but he insists)  
“I should go too,” Sirius sighed and kissed the top of Siria’s head.  
“What?” She asked and took hold of her father’s jacket, “You don’t even work for the Ministry!”  
“I may not be a Ministry Official, but I do a lot of work for them.”  
“Sirius!” Siria tsked and looked up at her father. “If you go, when can…” but the words were lost somewhere in her throat and she fell silent. He patted her messy, jet-black hair.  
“The packages should have been delivered and once it’s known, you can.” He replied knowing she wanted to talk about the Triwizard Tournament, but she didn’t know what package had been delivered.  
With a tired sigh, Siria waved Sirius off as he and Mr. Weasley Apparated from the kitchen. On Mrs. Weasley’s large, grandfather clock, Mr. Weasley’s hand moved from “Home” to “Work.” The silver hand on Siria’s watch jumped to ten o’clock and she knew he was at the Ministry. Siria sighed while she stared at the small, rune covered hand of her watch.  
“Neville!” a stern voice called from the yard. Neville flinched before he rushed into the yard, calling after the woman. His grandmother had come to collect him. After what happened at the World Cup, it wasn’t a surprise at all. Though Mrs. Weasley offered them a cuppa, Neville’s grandmother was eager to get home. “Next time,” she told Mrs. Weasley and patted her hand.  
“See you at school!” Hermione hugged Neville. The trio waved Neville off as he boarded the Knight Bus with his grandmother.  
Ron patted Siria’s shoulder. “Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Siria” He suggested (B4, 150).  
(Book: B4, 150-152 Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Ron, & Siria go to the paddock.  
Time passes & Percy complains about all the Howlers he’s been getting that are full of complaints about the World Cup. Mr. Weasley & Percy have hardly been home. Mrs. Weasley says Mr. Weasley hasn’t had to work weekends since the time of Voldemort/Tom Riddle/You-Know-Who/He Who Must Not Be Named; Percy says his father has to make up for his mistake. Mrs. Weasley & Bill say it wasn’t Mr. Weasley’s fault and that Rita Skeeter is awful. It’s raining hard)

Siria closed Animagi and watched endless stream of rain thudded into the window. It had been raining for days, but there hadn’t been a single bolt of lightning. She was starting to wonder if she’d ever become an Animagus. Absently, Siria fanned the pages of the book while it rested in her lap. “Could I make a lightning storm?” she asked herself before wondering if a magically created lightning storm would work.  
Her almond shaped green eyes stared back at her from the window. The square frame of her lenses complimented her eyes. She felt they looked larger or at least brighter. Siria ran a hand through her mane of hair. Ever since Sirius Transfigured it back, she had left her hair black. It looked as though it had never seen a brush and she had gained a severe cowlick that made the back of her hair stick up worse than usual.  
Mrs. Weasley patted Siria’s hair as she past her to continue folding the laundry while she waited for Mr. Weasley to return. “Ya know, I’m sure Kreacher would be more than happy to help,” Siria mentioned again.  
“Thank you, dear, but it’s really fine.” Mrs. Weasley assured her. Siria sighed. Rather than continuing her re-read of Animagi, she turned to watch Bill and Ron’s chess match.  
“Arthur, though I don’t approve, I can understand him going in, but your father…” Mrs. Weasley trailed off as she spared the grandfather clock another glance. Siria looked to her watch, which told her Sirius, much like Mr. Weasley, was at work. Sirius hopped between the Ministry and Moony & Padfoot, but usually stopped at the Burrow for dinner before heading out again. He and Mr. Weasley almost always missed each other.  
“I get it.” Siria said more softly than she intended. “I’ll see him next summer though.”  
“And break,” Ron skipped in. Hermione shot Siria a glance, which conveyed that Hermione still felt guilty that Ron didn’t know about the Triwizard Tournament. To be fair, Siria felt it wasn’t fair too, but was just as magically bound as Hermione to not say a word.  
“With all that’s happening,” Siria managed to say. She and Hermione had learned that, if it sounded like they were talking about something else, they could work around Colloquium Signati, at least a little bit.  
Mrs. Weasley smiled as she paired up socks. “With all that’s going on at school, I’d imagine you’ll want to stay.”  
“Mother!” Percy gapped at Mrs. Weasley. “It’s classified.”  
“Honestly, just tell us.” Ron rolled his eyes, but wouldn’t hear about the tournament. The only hand away from “Home” ticked to join the others.  
(Book: B4, 153-155 Mr. Weasley is home & informs them that Rita Skeeter learned Bertha Jorkins has been missing. He adds that they’re lucky Rita Skeeter doesn’t know about Winky. Percy tries to argue that it shouldn’t affect Mr. Crouch, but Hermione tells Percy he’s lucky no one knows how poorly Winky was treated. Hermione gets heated, rightfully so, but Mrs. Weasley dissolves it and tells them to go check their things and make sure they’re all packed.)

Hermione went through the parcells on her camp bed. Siria plopped down at the foot of her own camp bed and sighed. “Is it too much to ask for more time with my parent?” Siria grumbled, face down and half into her pillow.  
“No.” Hermione sighed. Siria listened to Hermione load the parcells into her trunk. “Oh, Siria!” the smile in Hermione’s voice made Siria turn her head.  
In Hermione’s hands, Chloe’s finished work laid with the shoulders of the dress pressed to Hermione’s. It had a semi-sweetheart necklace of the blue fabric and Chloe filled it into a scoop neck with the bronze lace that covered the bottom of the dress. Siria pinched part of the flair of the ballgown and admired the seamless layering of the bronze lace that went from making it look like the bottom of the dress was bronze to fading itself out under Hermione’s waist.  
“It’s amazing!” Hermione beamed. She spun with the dress pinned to her. “Get yours!” She insisted. Siria rolled her eyes, but reached for the Moony & Padfoot box. Just as she undid the bow, Siria paused.  
“Don’t hate me, but I kinda want it to be a surprise.” Siria confessed.  
“Now you tell me!” Hermione laughed, but they packed their things in a much better mood than when they entered the room.  
The moment the small, silver hand of Siria’s watched moved from ten o’clock, Siria dashed downstairs. “Sorry!” She shouted at George, having knocked into him as she past, but she didn’t stop. “Dad!” Siria called and continued to thunder down. He and Remus opened their arms to hug her. She dove right in, as if she hadn’t seen him all summer. Sirius chuckled. “I missed you too.”  
“I didn’t open my dress, but I’m sure I’ll love it even more than before— and tell Chloe that Hermione’s is amazing, but, more importantly, how did she managed to make our dresses, Ginny’s, and robes for Ron, Fred, and George? You know what?” Siria shook her head and bear hugged Sirius. “I’m just glad to see you before term started.” She heard Remus whisper something that sounded an awful lot like “told you so.”  
Sirius patted his daughter’s head. “Yes, well, we’re coming to the station tomorrow. I just wanted to check on you.”  
“Check on me?” Siria asked and looked up at him. He looked over the top of her head, to Hermione who was at the bottom of the stairs with Ron.  
“Any nightmares?” He asked Hermione. Siria gasped and punched Sirius’s shoulder.  
“Really?” She asked.  
“No.” Hermione answered Sirius.  
“I could have told you that!” Siria snapped and sat down.  
“We’re just worried,” Remus told Siria. He spared her a smile.  
Mrs. Weasley clicked her tongue and marched the stairs. “Up!” She called at Hermione and Ron, “Come, now.” Hermione and Ron looked to Siria, who watched them walk with slow and hesitant steps until they were out of sight. She sat while Sirius knelt beside her chair.  
“Princess,” Sirius smirked up at her. Though he had a playful air about him, she could feel the gravity of the situation. Even without the logic books, she knew enough about social cues to understand. Her history of run ins with Tom Riddle certainly didn’t help.  
“If I have any, I’ll write you.” Siria grumbled while she watched the floor. She knew the nightmares didn’t make Sirius and Remus didn’t think any less of her, but she felt less of herself. Afterall, she was in Gryffindor, wasn’t she supposed to be brave? Her green eyes wandered from the floor to her hands. “And see Madam Pomfrey” she muttered in hardly a whisper.  
“Thank you.” Sirius extended his hands. Siria rolled her eyes, but put her hands into his. “I know it isn’t easy to talk about them and I really appreciate you making an effort.” His thumbs stroked the backs of her hands. “There’s going to be a lot happening at Hogwarts this year— more than boys and girls and your classes…” Sirius’s smile strained. “As much as you can, be safe. Please.”  
“Why so serious, Sirius?” She forced a faint smile with the quiet line. Though he mirrored her smile, his silver eyes clung to their worry.  
“Because trouble has a knack for finding my very brave, very strong daughter.” He confessed. Siria tried to shrug away her embarrassment.  
Remus was pretending to be far more interested in the grandfather clock than reasonable. He had seen the clock several times since the World Cup and probably several more before it. Knowing his feigned interest was for her sake, made Siria feel slightly relieved but also more aware.  
“If you keep being so worried, they’ll be calling you Sirius Grey.” Siria joked. Remus coughed to hide his laugh, but it was drown by Sirius’s laugh.  
“If you keep getting into trouble, they’ll be calling you Siria Probably-Grounded.” He retorted.  
“Mine was better.” said Siria.  
“It was.” He smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow and will write Madam Pomfrey and Dumbledore tonight.”  
“Dumbledore!” Siria cried. “You’re going to tell the Headmaster when I have nightmares?”  
“Siria,” Sirius tsked. She pulled her hands from his grasp and crossed her arms.  
“Sirius!” Siria tsked back.  
“Your nightmares aren’t always like other people’s. When Voldemort comes back, you’re our warning call.” He reasoned. She opened her mouth to argue, but the fact he said “when” and not “if” hit her. Tom Riddle’s return was a guarantee to him. It was why she spent the first weeks of summer running around with him and Remus or else at Hogwarts. They weren’t taking precautions for if Tom Riddle returned… they were preparing for his return.  
“Fine.” Siria agreed. “I— I will let you, Dumbledore, and Madam Pomfrey know.”  
“Good.” Sirius rose to his feet and patted Siria’s wild hair. “Though, at school, you may want to call him ‘Professor’ or ‘Headmaster’.”


	9. Aboard the Hogwarts Express

**Aboard the Hogwarts Express**   


(Book: B4, 158-162 In the morning, it’s still pouring. Amos Diggory’s face is in the fire & asks Mr. Weasley to help out because the police have gone to Mad-Eye Moody’s and they need to get Mad-Eye Moody off on a small charge. Mad-Eye heard an intruder & jinxed his dust bins. Mr. Weasley leaves to take care of it. The Weasleys talk about how Mad-Eye is a “nutter,” an old friend of Dumbledore, a retired Auror (Dark Wizard catcher), and doesn’t trust anyone.  
Percy says he HAS to go to work because Mr. Crouch needs him & George retorts that Crouch will know Percy’s name soon. Bill & Charlie decide to come to see everyone off)  
Remus and Sirius arrived in a grey bedford van, which Siria suspected may be enchanted. It wasn’t as polished as Sirius’s Austin Healey Sprite, but, in the rain, it would have been hard to see if it did. What gave it away was how the rain seemed to fall right off the windows and kept them clear, like when Hermione used Impervius, on Siria’s glasses last year. The inside of the bedford van had been magically expanded, just as the Weasley’s Ford Anglia.  
“Why aren’t we taking the Weasley’s car?” Siria asked as she handed Sirius her trunk.  
“And make Molly drive it all the way back out here?” Sirius gave an exaggerated sigh of disbelief. “In this weather, no less.” He tapped her nose. “Besides, it’s less of a squeeze for everyone to fit in here.”  
With their trunks, the eleven of them fit snugly in the van. Hermione held Crookshanks’s carrier in her lap and Siria did the same with Hedwig’s cage. Mrs. Weasley sat in the front, on an elongated seat, with Sirius at the wheel and Remus in the middle. Bill, Charlie, Ginny and Hermione sat behind them, with Fred, George, Ron, and Siria in the very back. Remus passed back some bags of chips and Muggle candy while Sirius pulled out of the Burrow.  
Despite the thundering rain outside, it was quiet in the van. Hermione leaned around her seat. “Sometimes I feel Sirius is just asking for the Ministry to look into him,” Hermione confessed.  
“I mean, the Ministry enchants cars too, so it’d be hypocritical of them.” said Ron.  
“I don’t think the Ministry cares about their hypocrisy— look at how Winky was treated.”  
“Hermione!” Ron and Siria groaned.  
“It’s true!” Hermione insisted. Ron and Siria sighed.  
“I’ve said it once, I’ll say it again— if it bothers you that much, do something about it!”  
“I will!” Hermione tsked and turned back around.  
“What’s her problem now?” Fred asked.  
“Still house elves.” Ron told him through a mouthful of chips.  
“What’ll it take for her to see they’re happy?” George shook his head. The other three shrugged. Siria wondered if, after Dobby and Winky, Hermione would believe there were happy House elves.  
“How do you suppose someone could keep the happy ones, like Kreacher, happy and make the unhappy ones happy?” Siria asked. Fred, George, and Ron shrugged.  
“If anyone can figure it out, it’d be Ms. Granger.” Fred smirked and looked over the top of Hermione’s seat. Her arms were crossed and she was staring determinately out the window.  
The rest of the journey to King’s Cross was rather uneventful, but it was pouring even harder when they arrived. With all the hands they had available, the lot of them were able to get inside without getting too soaked. Having done it twice before, getting onto Platform 9 ¾ was easy now. It was a simple matter of walking into the pillar between Platform 9 and Platform 10, but they had the small problem of their group going through without attracting the attention of Muggles (B4, 163).  
Mrs. Weasley and Charlie took Ginny through first while the others crowded around the barrier. Bill leaned against with barrier with Fred and George, then they slid through together. Remus followed with Hermione and Ron. Sirius took Siria under his arm and leaned against the barrier. He pulled her head close to his ear. “Now really, have a safe year.” Sirius requested as they slid onto Platform 9 ¾.  
“I expect no less than a letter a week— I’ve seen how much you write Astoria, so I expect just as much sent my way.” Sirius ruffled Siria’s already unmanageable hair.  
“Dad!” She groaned and knocked his arm away from her hair.   
(Book: B4, 163-164 The Hogwarts Express is loud, the platform full of students and families. The trio gets a compartment then return to say their farewells. Charlie says he may be seeing them soon. Bill says he almost wishes he was still at Hogwarts. Fred, George, & Ron are curious as to why)

“When’re you going to visit?” Siria asked as the train whistled.  
“As soon as I can.” Sirius promised. “I’ll write you ahead of time.”  
“And once it’s known, I can talk fine, right?” Siria asked. She didn’t want to be the only one, beside Hermione, that couldn’t talk about the Triwizard Tournament. “You’re sure?”  
“Positive.” He nodded and looked to Remus, who nodded as well.  
“Don’t worry.” Remus assured her.  
Though Siria could step onto the train fine, Sirius insisted on hoisting her up. “Don’t do anything I would.” He instructed.  
“The more you tell me not to, the more I want to.” Siria confessed.  
“That was always my problem too.” He sighed. The doors of the train were closing. “See you soon!”  
“See you soon!” She waved back.  
(Book: B4,164-168 Hermione & Siria thank Mrs. Weasley for having them over summer. The train leaves. When the trio are back in their compartment, they hear Draco Malfoy say that his father wanted to send him to Durmstrang, as his father knows the headmaster & can’t stand Dumbledore, but Draco didn’t go because his mother didn’t want him so far away. Hermione explains how Wizarding schools are hidden by being made Unplottable and to look like unsafe structures if Muggles happen to stumble upon them. She says Durmstrang is probably cold, as their uniform requires thick capes. Durmstrang don’t let Muggleborns in and teach the Dark Arts. Dean Thomas & Seamus Finnigan stop by to talk, and so does Neville. Hermione works on Summoning Charms while the rest of them reply the match. Dean & Seamus had left the door cracked, so when Ron says that they were in the top box, Draco Malfoy enters telling Ron it was “for the first and last time”. Crabbe & Goyle flank him.)

“What do you think you’re doing?” Seamus asked and rose to his feet. He and Dean stood shoulder to shoulder. They weren’t as intimidating as Crabbe and Goyle, but Malfoy seemed taken aback. “You’ve got a lot of gall to come near Siria after last year!” Dean added and stepped forward. Hermione looked over her book, at Siria, and mouthed “see.”  
Last year, Siria fell off her broom and, for reasons he had yet to share, Draco Malfoy tried to stop her fall. Rumors about Malfoy liking her spread through the school and, for the first time in his life, he was bullied. When Malfoy was knocked into Siria by some older students, she made the largest scene she had in her— and claimed Malfoy had turned her down. Siria expected it to kill the rumors or else direct the bullying at herself, but things hadn’t worked out quite as she intended. As far as most people were concerned, Siria made a romantic gesture then was rejected by Draco Malfoy.  
Malfoy was forced to step back as Dean and Seamus nearly stepped on him. “We all knew you had poor taste, but rejecting Siria hammered in the final nail.” Dean told Malfoy.  
“She may have questionable taste for liking you, but you aren’t going to trouble her for it!” Seamus insisted. Dean, Seamus, Ron, and, much to everyone’s surprise, Neville helped pull the door closed. Crabbe and Goyle struggled with the door before they and Malfoy returned to their compartment.  
“Honestly, Siria” Seamus sighed as he sat back down. “Don’t know what you saw in him.”  
“He’s…” Siria looked from Ron to Hermione for help, but Hermione shook her head and Ron shrugged. “Pretty?” She pretended not to hear the question in her own voice and changed the subject quickly with. “Can you believe Viktor Krum though? Amazing!”  
(Book: B4, 170 they arrive at school and it’s pouring rain. They’re thankful they aren’t first years and that they don’t have to take the lake in this weather)


	10. The Triwizard Tournament

**The Triwizard Tournament**   


(Book: B4, 171-173 it continues to pour rain. Peeves drops water balloons on entering students. They make it into the Great Hall and settle down at the Gryffindor table.)  
Under the table, Siria pointed her wand at the bottom of her drenched robes and boots. “Aer Calidus” She whispered with swift, waving mess that went with the incantation. Her wand erupted into stream of hot air, which steamed the water out of her robes. Hermione elbowed Siria almost immediately. “Really?” Hermione asked.  
“Me next!” Ron requested. “I’m freezing.” Though Hermione tsked, she didn’t stop Siria from drying their robes.  
“Hiya, Siria!” a breathless and excited voice called as Colin Creevey collided with Siria’s shoulder.  
“Hi, Colin” Siria smiled back. She turned her wand and took to drying his robes while Colin told Siria that, as per the letters she’d received, Colin’s brother Dennis had been accepted to Hogwarts and was making his way across the lake with Hagrid. “I really hope he’s in Gryffindor, but, I suppose any House is almost as good, right?”  
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for Gryffindor, though.” Siria assured him. He left to sit with his fellow third years.  
(Book: B4, 174-183 The new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor hasn’t arrived. The Sorting Hat sings its song, sorts the new students, and the feast begins. After the feast, Dumbledore tells them new things have been added to the list of banned objects and that the Quidditch Tournament won’t take place this year)

Though she saw it coming, Siria tsked. Her green eyes scanned across the Great Hall. First they went to the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric Diggory sat. She wouldn’t get to beat him and show she was the better Seeker. Her green eyes trailed to the Slytherin table and fell on silver blonde hair of Draco Malfoy. Though her opinion of Malfoy seemed to waiver with each interaction, Siria wanted to beat him more than she wanted to beat Diggory.  
(Book: B4, 184 Dumbledore continues that the Quidditch Tournament won’t be happening because they’re hosting a different event. Mad-Eye Moody enters. Dumbledore continues again & informs the school that Triwizard Tournament will be hosted, but only those 17 years of age and older may enter. This upsets a few students, specifically Fred & George Weasley, who plan to enter no matter what. The Tournament will start in October, when the other schools arrive. The feast ends and they return to Gryffindor Tower.)

“No wonder Sirius doesn’t want you to enter.” Hermione told Siria. Siria plopped onto her bed.  
“Because he’d die of worry.” Siria smirked. The rain was still thundering on the windows.  
“Sure you’ll be alright?” Hermione asked as she crawled into her own bed. Siria nodded.  
“I only had the one nightmare all summer, so…” Siria sighed. More than anything she hoped she was over her nightmares.


	11. The Hogwarts Herald

**The Hogwarts Herald**  


[Magical Beast information from Harry Potter Wikia]  
(Book: B4, 193-194 It’s cleared up outside, they go over their schedule for the day and the morning post comes in, which includes something for Neville that he’d forgotten, Draco Malfoy gets sweets from home)  
Hedwig fluttered on the table with two letters in her beak. Siria quickly took the letters and broke apart a piece of toast for Hedwig. “Thanks, girl. You’re the best.” Siria grinned as she opened the first letter, which was from Sirius.

Dear Siria,  
I’m looking forward to a mountain of letters from you. As I imagine you’ll have nothing better to do than write. If Moody is there, it should be a boring year.  


“Really?” Ron looked closer at the letter.  
“That means he thinks something’s up” Siria noted. “See” she pointed at the next line.

Though, things are boring everywhere, after the World Cup.  


“He’s saying something is up. We talked about it over summer and made a bit of a code.” She continued through the rest of the letter, which was mostly about how things at Moony & Padfoot were busy, he didn’t know when he would be out to see her, Mrs. Weasley was starting work next week, and “Keep yourself out of the tournament or I’ll go grey.”  
“Did everyone except us know about the tournament?” Ron asked. Hermione lifted the book she checked out from the library and pulled it closer. “You didn’t know.” Ron told her. Siria opened her other letter to avoid answering that she and Hermione did know, but couldn’t have told him. The second letter was much shorter, but full of color. Small doodles of flowers surrounded the border of the letter, which was on paper— not parchment.

Dear Siria,  
You’re not really going to sign up for the Triwizard Tournament, are you? We overheard some seventh and sixth years saying they were going to put their names in and one of them said you were entering. Daphne said they said that to encourage other Slytherin students to submit their names, but I couldn’t wait until Sunday to ask.  
My Best,  
Astoria Greengrass  


Siria put the letter down and looked across the Great Hall, to the Slytherin table. She scanned for the petite frame, but didn’t see Astoria or Daphne. “You’ll see Daphne after Herbology.” Ron reminded Siria.  
“See her, sure. Be able to talk to her, that’s another thing entirely.” Siria said as she stuffed the letters into her bag and added some eggs to her plate for Hedwig. If Daphne was with the other Slytherin girls. Siria stood a better chance at asking Travers out than getting a word in around Daphne’s friends, and Travers was dating Warrington.  
(Book: B4, 194-196 They work with Bubotubers in Herbology & learn that it’s dangerous when the pus is pure, but a good cure for acne when properly diluted. Then the Gryffindors head down to Hagrid’s cabin for Care of Magical Creatures)  
Hagrid was waiting for them, outside of his cabin, with Fang and a wooden crate. Hermione peered into the crate and backed away so quickly she stepped on Ron’s foot. Siria saw why. (As per the book, the Blast-Ended Skrewts, which look like shell-less lobsters). “Er…” Siria started and looked to Hagrid.  
“Unfortunately, those ‘re fer the sixth years.” Hagrid sighed. He lowered his voice some “Ol’ Snuffles had other thin’s in mind for yer all.” Relief rushed over Siria, though she felt a little sorry for the sixth years.  
Once the Slytherins showed up, Hagrid led the class into a clearing at the outskirts of the forest. They started a few small fires and Hagrid put a handful of what looked like green salamanders at each fire. “Now, yer all ‘ave seen Salamander, but yer’ll notice these are a bit different.” Hagrid began. Hermione’s hand shot into the air as she sensed the question Hagrid was leading to. “Alrigh’. Go ahead, ‘ermione.”  
“These are Amazonian Salamanders, which is why they’re green— though there are red ones. Amazonian Salamanders are weak to Glacius, but resistant to Incendio.” Hermione went on about other vulnerabilities and strength of the Salamander.  
Hagrid then brought out English Salamanders and went over how different the two breeds were. The class took notes on the two Salamanders and Hagrid finally pulled out some Peruvian Salamanders. Lavender Brown let out a cry of awe at the sight of the purple Salamanders. Aside from being purple, the Peruvian Salamanders weren’t much different than the Amazonian ones.  
They watched the three breeds of Salamanders until class was nearly over. Hagrid told them to put out the fires. “Yer can never be too careful. If yer don’ put out fires, they might make Ashwinders an’ then yer ‘ave a real problem. Can burn down yer house with their eggs, Ashwinders.”  
“Now, next class yer’ll be meetin’ me at the lake. We’re gon’ be goin’ over what lives in it.” Hagrid told them.  
“Aside the giant squid?” Ron asked.  
“As long as we don’t have to get in the lake, I don’t really care.” Siria confessed. She’d never learned to swim and could only imagine how deep the lake went, or how foolish she’d feel if she drowned in front of everyone.  
[Book: B4, 199-200 Hermione goes to Arithmancy while Ron & Siria go to Divination, where they start on stars & planets]  
While Professor Trelawney trailed off on their term’s goals, Siria scratched away her parchment with her quill. Hagrid had invited them to tea on Saturday and she hoped Sirius would be able to stop by. Mostly, Siria wanted to know, if they completed the Animagus ritual and she could turn into a dog, if she would be able to swim. As she couldn’t write that on parchment, because Sirius had insisted “you never know who could read it!” she spent a fair amount of time starting at the parchment, as if it could tell her how to say what she wanted without announcing what they were doing to her possible mystery reader.  
Under the table, Ron tapped Siria’s knee with his own. She looked over her glasses at him and he looked to Professor Trelawney.  
[Book: B4, 200-201 Trelawney tells Siria she was no doubt born in mid winter because of her “dark hair, mean stature, and tragic losses”]  
“So close!” Siria grimaced. She had said it much louder than she intended. “I was born a little earlier than anticipated— just before August.” Ron nearly choked on his attempt to stifle his laugh so badly he broke into a coughing fit (B,201). Professor Trelawney pulled her shawl up around her shoulders and sent Siria a glare that Siria thought had been reserved for Hermione.  
Out of pure stubbornness, Siria raised her head a little higher. She had been earlier than anticipated, by both Professor Trelawney and her own parents. The day Siria was born was one of Remus’s favorite stories to tell. Remus and Sirius had been with Lily, and completely unprepared for Siria’s early arrival. Lily, however, had everything: a hospital bag packed and beside her door, had a folder of readied paperwork, and then some. Lily had remained calm and told them “Just wait until the baby’s out; they’ll be ready for everything before we’re ready for them to be.”  
Siria felt like, if she had been raised only by Sirius and had gotten to hear that story when she was younger, she would only be more ready to dive in to things. Though, if she had heard that story, she might have also wanted to join the Triwizard Tournament because she might feel like she was ready, even if Sirius wasn’t. Even after they were assigned complicated star charts of how the planets and stars were aligned at their birth, Siria smirked to herself. She wondered if her life would have been any different if she had waited the two or so weeks.  
On their way to the Great Hall, Hermione caught up with Ron and Siria. The three had barely sat down when Colin and Dennis Creevey rushed into Siria. “Siria!” Colin gasped and thrust a crumbled Daily Prophet page into Siria’s hands.  
[Book: B4, 202-203 the article “Further Mistakes at the Ministry of Magic” by Rita Skeeter]  
“Rita Skeeter” Hermione tsked when they had finished reading the article.  
“You know her?” Siria asked.  
“No, but she wrote the other article too. You know, the one about bodies being carried from the woods.” Hermione told her.  
“But isn’t it about Ron’s dad?” Colin asked as he looked to them.  
“She got his name wrong.” Ron grumbled.  
“Honestly Ron,” Hermione waved it off as she folded up the page. “Don’t worry about it. Skeeter isn’t a journalist, she’s a gossiper” and Hermione handed the page back to Colin.  
“Thanks for letting us read it.” Siria gave Colin an apologetic smile. “Why don’t you two sit with us?” She asked and scooted herself closer to Ron. Dennis jumped at the opportunity and half sat on Siria’s leg while trying to sit beside her. “Sorry!” He shouted and slid beside her.  
“It’s okay.” Siria told him. Hermione glared at nothing in particular as she plopped hefty scoops of mixed vegetables onto their plates.  
“‘Mione?” Siria asked while she received a heaping helping of sausage pasta bake. “Are you that upset about the article?” Hermione raised her eyebrow.  
“You know… I suppose I could….” Hermione trailed off. Ron and Siria looked to each other and sighed. They knew she would come back to the conversation when she was ready to share or else bolt off to do what she was thinking about. Hermione froze for a breath then seemed to inhale her food. “Gotta go to the library!” Hermione waved as she rushed past them.  
“Did we upset her?” Dennis whispered to Colin. Siria sighed while she watched Hermione’s bushy brown hair disappear through the doors of the Great Hall. Beside the door, at the end of the Slytherin table, Daphne Greengrass caught Siria’s eye. Siria meant to smile, but her lips pressed together before they smiled and it resulted in Siria feeling awkward. Daphne gave a nod so small, it looked like she was just looking to her plate.  
With Daphne’s gaze on her, Siria crossed her forearms in a “X” then pantomimed writing, and pointed to the Professor’s table. Just as small as the first, Daphne nodded. When she looked back up, she wasn’t looking anywhere near Siria. Siria tsked. She wanted to tell Daphne about how Sirius and Hermione knew Siria liked Travers, but she supposed she could tell Daphne on Sunday.  
“What are you doing?” Colin asked. He and Dennis were looking around for who she could have been talking to.  
“Stretching” Rib suggested. He knew that wasn’t it, but wasn’t sure who Siria was talking to.  
“More importantly,” Siria turned to Colin and Dennis. “You know not to even try and sign up for the Triwizard Tournament, right?” The two nodded.  
“Are you going to?” Dennis asked.  
“Ab-so-lutely NOT!” Siria looked the two brothers in the eyes. “Sirius might worry himself to death if I so much as wanted to for a moment. People died and I’ve had enough near death experiences for a lifetime!”

When Siria returned to her dorm room that night, Fay Dunbar, Ginny Weasley, Lavender Brown, and Parvati Patil were in a circle with Hermione, in the middle of the room. “You’re late!” Lavender shouted to Siria.  
“I’m late?” Siria asked. The other girls scooted back to make the circle larger and give Siria a spot between Hermione and Fay. “Didn’t know we had a meeting.” Siria confessed. Her heart was racing and she felt a little like she was actually in trouble or else about to be told off by the other girls for doing something terrible.  
She forced her eyes to the middle of the circle, where a pile of newspapers, parchment, and old books were sprawled out. Lavender and Parvati had covered the floor behind them with magazines. Hermione seemed to have emptied out all the books she had behind her. The area between Fay’s and Siria’s beds seemed to be the only area of clean floor.  
“We’re starting a school paper!” Hermione told Siria. Siria looked around the circle.  
“We?” She asked and gestured from herself to the other girls. “We can’t agree long enough to sit together at meals and we’re starting a paper?”  
“We agreed not to sit together— there’s a difference!” Parvati insisted.  
“Besides, this is actually very important!” Lavender said. Siria looked to Hermione, who didn’t disagree.  
“Okay” Siria nodded. “Why? Or about what? Like… what would we even write about?”  
The other girls dove into explaining. They spoke all at once and over each other in a loud rush of jumbled words that Siria managed to catch and pieces bits of it together, “OKAY!” She called over them. “But isn’t it going to be a lot of work? We have classes too and, if it’s a school paper, don’t we need permission?”  
“I’ll get it.” Hermione replied with such confidence, Siria wouldn’t be surprised if Hermione had already gotten permission.  
“And we won’t be doing it alone. On Sunday, I’ll ask people from the study group if they want to join. Ernie MacMillan, Susan Bones, and Cedric Diggory already said they’re interested.”  
“Diggory?” Siria asked.  
“Isn’t he handsome!” Lavender giggled, but Ginny rolled her eyes.  
“He came up when I was talking to Ernie and Susan, to ask about Sunday.” Hermione whispered.  
“You don’t have to join.” Ginny told Siria.  
“She should though,” Hermione suggested, “Remember what you told me over summer? Well, this is how I’m making my stand and I could really use your help.”  
“Okay.” Siria nodded. She looked around at the eyes on her. “So, what are we calling it?”  
“The Hogwarts Herald.”


	12. The Unforgivable Curses

**The Unforgivable Curses**   


By Thursday morning, Hermione had secured a classroom, received permission from Professor Dumbledore himself, convinced Professor Vector to be their advisor, and figured out their equipment, which Sirius agreed to provide. Lavender and Parvati had each filled an entire roll of parchment with ideas for their column pieces. Fay had started interviewing other students, so the very first paper could have poll results. Ginny wrote to half the shops of Hogsmeade and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans to ask for funding in exchange for advertisement space.   
When Ron and Siria entered the Great Hall, it wasn’t a surprise to see a small huddle of students from other Houses surrounding Hermione. Dishes had been moved to accommodate newspaper layout options that Cedric Diggory, Ernie MacMillan, and Hermione made. Lavender and Parvati had thrown out the rule of not sitting together. The two were gawking at the layouts with the others.  
“Siria!” Colin called and waved Siria and Ron over to himself and his brother. “Did you hear about the paper?” Colin asked as Ron and Siria sat down.  
“Yeah. Hermione’s really excited about it.” Siria commented flatly while she swept some eggs onto her plate. Colin’s eyes seemed wide as dinner plates.  
“Are you helping?” Dennis asked.  
“We are.” Ron yawned. He had agreed to report on Quidditch around the world, but had to share reporting duties with Ginny.  
“That sounds really cool!” Colin beamed from Ron to Siria and back.  
Ron looked to Siria. In their gaze, they knew what the other wanted to say. She nodded to him and turned her green eyes to Colin. “We got a lot set right now. Like, editors, layout, articles, and even got Dean Thomas to agree to do a comic, but…” Siria tsked under her breath as she pretended to think. “You know, I don’t know if we have a photographer though—”   
“I can take pictures!” Colin cried as Denis shouted together with “Colin can!”  
“Really?” Ron asked. “Oh, you ought to talk to Hermione then.”  
“We will!” Dennis and Colin were already heading to Hermione.  
“Well, that got them to go” said Ron. He smirked to Siria. The two loaded food onto their plates and inhaled it as fast as they could. “Gotta save Hermione a seat.” Ron told Siria. Even if they didn’t want to save Hermione a seat, the two would have headed over. It was finally time for Defense Against the Dark Arts, with Mad-Eye Moody.  
Siria took their usual seat at the second table from the door. Ron looked at her with disbelief. “You don’t want to get closer?” He asked.  
“If the lesson’s cool, we’ll do it next time. I don’t want to get my hopes up.” She lied. Siria’s hopes were so high she could hardly contain them. Sirius had written her each day and each letter raised her expectations that this class would be her favorite. Defense Against the Dark Arts was already her favorite, even if she wished Transfiguration was. When Remus taught last year, Siria thought she couldn’t have been happier, unless Sirius were to teach. Here, in the room of someone that Sirius and Mr. Weasley had praised so much, who Dumbledore was rumored to have great confidence in, her expectations felt like they couldn’t be contained. There was even a small part of her that was surprised that she hadn’t done some accidental magic as the result of her bursting excitement.  
Hermione was the last one in. Her hair was even more wild than usual and her face was flushed with breathlessness. She dropped into her chair with a scrap while it dragged across the floor. “Sorry!” Hermione whispered to Ron and Siria. “Ced has some great ideas for the paper.”  
“Ced?” Ron hissed back. “Ced?” He mouthed to Siria, who pressed her lips in a thin smile. If Hermione did like Cedric Diggory, he was a huge step up from Lockhart. It was far more likely to Siria that Hermione and Cedric were just too invested in their conversation to notice that class was about to start.  
[Book: B4, 210-221 Moody tells them to put their books away then shows them the Unforgivable Curses of the Imperius Curse, the Cruciatus Curse, & the Killing Curse. He explains that you can control people with Imperio, torture with Crucio, & murder with Avada Kedavra, but only if you meant it. Siria is the only one to survive so far. Neville is shaken by the lesson, so Moody brings him back for tea. Hermione expresses that the Ministry may not be happy to learn what Moody is teaching them, but Ron argues that Dumbledore’s always done things his way. Ron & Siria sit down for their Divination homework. They work for about an hour before the two can’t take much more. Ron suggests they go back to their standard of making things up]

“You know,” Siria began as she rummaged through her bag. “I told Sirius about how we had some issues with Divination and…” She withdrew a small, plastic box that was mostly clear. Inside were various sided dice, from four-sided to twenty, and she dumped them onto her book. “I was worried he’d be upset we were ‘cheating’,” Siria gave an ear to ear grin for what Hermione had considered cheating, Sirius thought was clever thinking. “Instead, he helped me make a list and a method to randomly choose from it.”  
Once Siria pulled out the small list, she and Ron took turns rolling two ten-sided dice. “Let’s go over, to make sure we don’t have the same.” Siria suggested.  
“Good call” Ron told her and handed his journal of his misfortunate month over to her, in exchange for hers.  
“We ought to change your drowning to Monday, since we’ll be at the lake for Care of Magical Creatures.” said Siria.  
“I will, but you’re being burned twice.”  
“Oh,” Siria gave a small wince, “maybe we should have just gone down the list.”  
“It was more fun getting to roll.” said Ron. The two made their changes and put their homework away.  
Ron stretched up and rose to go to bed, but Siria pulled out Intermediate Transfiguration. His mouth fell open as a groan of complete disbelief poured out. Siria kept her face toward the book, while she glanced at Ron with an apologetic look. “You’re turning into Hermione.” He muttered. Her lips thinned, but Siria opened the book and flipped through. “That’s not even the right book!”  
“It’snextyear’shalf” Siria grumbled. She slouched into her chair and pulled the book so close it almost grazed her glasses.  
“Next year! What happened to you this summer?” He threw his arms up then slumped back down into the chair.  
They sat in silence while Siria read over the Transfiguration spell for turning rocks into dogs. The silence continued as she read through turning tables into pigs. Ron sat, completely motionless, in his chair. Siria’s only motion was that of turning the page every few minutes as she moved onto the next spell. The crackling of embers and flutter of pages sang softly in through the common room.  
Seconds before curfew, the thundering of falling books announced Hermione and Neville who clambered through the portrait hole. Ron and Siria bolted to their feet, Siria with her wand in her hand and out. She released a relieved sigh and lowered her wand. The four collected the arm fulls of books that had fallen.  
“Honestly Hermione, what even if this?” Ron asked while he stacked another history book onto a table. “Do we have an essay I don’t know about?”  
“It’s for the Herald!” Neville answered.  
“Do you know how long House Elves have been oppressed?” Hermione asked. She looked from Siria, who shrugged, to Ron, who shrugged as well. “Exactly!”  
“I take it you figured what you want to do?” Siria asked, “For the first paper?”  
“For every issue.” Hermione straightened up her posture. “I’m going to cover social issues and campaign for the rights of our fellow Magical Creatures.”  
Neville nodded along with Hermione while he kept his grip on what was clearly an Herbology book. “What? Have plants oppressed them too?” Ron cried. Hermione gasped in outrage and Neville pulled the book to his chest. Siria swept some of the history books off the table to step between Hermione and Ron.  
“Whew, it’s late. Cool book, Neville! You should totally tell us about it at breakfast. I’m super tired though and ready bed.” Siria spat it out in a breath and reached for Hermione’s hand. Hermione glared past Siria, to Ron, and clenched her fist. Her large brown eyes focused on him with a glare that told Ron and Siria just how much it meant to Hermione.  
Through gritted teeth, Hermione told them, “You don’t have to help or even understand, but…” she pressed her lips into a thin line as her head fell for the fraction of a moment before she returned her gaze and continued. “But I’m not going to stop until there’s nothing more to fight for!” and Hermione knocked into Siria’s shoulder, swept up an armful of books, and dashed to the stairs of the girl’s dormitory.  
Ron mouthed wordlessly at Siria. “No!” Siria told him with a point of her finger. “We’d support each other if we wanted to do something crazy like enter the Triwizard Tournament— this is Hermione’s version.”  
“But they like it!” Ron shouted.  
“Do they?” Neville whimpered.  
“They do!” Ron insisted.  
“Maybe because it’s all they know,” Siria shrugged. She raised the books to her chest to rub the creases out of her forehead. “I just…” She sighed. Neville and Ron looked to the door of the girl’s dormitory.  
“Suppose it couldn’t hurt” Ron grumbled. He scratched the back of his neck while he stared into the deep crimson carpet. “If we at least didn’t discourage her.”  
“Agreed.”


	13. The Unexpected Letter

**The Unexpected Letter**   


Sunday morning, Ron and Siria headed down to the dungeons. The last time they headed to this dungeon, it was eerie and dark. Things had not changed. It was so cold that Ron’s and Siria’s breath could be seen in the air. There were no windows for natural light and the torches seemed uncharacteristically dim for anywhere that wasn’t Snape’s classroom. Ron groaned and rubbed his nose. A stale, musty stench hung in the chilling air.  
They continued down the dim hall to a set of propped open doors. Light poured from the doors and into the hallway. Siria’s legs cemented themselves outside the doorway. “What’s it?” Ron asked over his shoulder. A small laugh choked out, but she couldn’t find the words. It was silly really, she told herself. Ron stepped back into the corridor. “Did you hear something?” He whispered. She shook her head. “You know, that was years ago, and we took care of it— and even Mrs. Norris was fine.” He told her. Siria nodded. Ron patted Siria’s shoulder.  
“I’s okay if you don’t want to do it here. We can talk to Hermione and—” Ron stopped when Siria shook her head.  
“I’m being silly.” She whispered.  
“Naw. It’s pretty normal. I’m actually glad you got nervous. I thought I was the only one.” He told her. Siria smirked. She knew Ron had pushed their second year to the furtherest corner of his mind. He may have even forgotten that this was the room where Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday party was.  
Hurried footsteps thundered down the stairs to the corridor. Siria looked to Ron with even widder eyes. “In or…?” He asked. She nodded and he stepped back into the room. Siria hurried after him. The room was much warmer than the hall. Both fireplaces were roaring with dancing flames. Hermione had gotten several arched tables and they had been arranged in two large circles. Every couple of chairs, there was a jar of blue flame, which Hermione learned to conjure in their first year. The occasional jar had a small bowl of bubbling water with what looked like yellow and orange kelp in them.  
“Siria! Ron!” Neville waved. Hermione and Neville were standing on the inside of the one of the circles. Cedric Diggory, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, and Lily Moon sat closest to them with a sea of parchment before them. Ron and Siria made their way through the surprisingly full room. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and the circle of the newspaper was nearly full.  
“Do you like the smell?” Hannah asked them.  
“The smell?” Ron asked. He and Siria sniffed. While the room didn’t smell stiff and musty like the hall, it didn’t seem to have a smell either. If anything, it was just crisp or clean. It was almost like a winter morning, but it was too warm in the room for that to be it.  
“I suppose?” Siria looked to Ron. He shrugged.  
“Better than the hall.” He said.  
“It’s thanks to Neville!” Hannah told them. Neville’s round face flushed red.  
“Professor Moody, really.” Neville muttered.  
“Oh? He knows about Herbology too then?” Ron asked.  
“No. Maybe. He, uh, he lent me a book on water plants and it had Lautus Seaweed.” Neville continued to mutter, but the blush faded from this cheeks as he talked about the book. Professor Sprout told Professor Moody that Neville was good at Herbology and so he asked her about a few of the plants in the book.  
“It’s kind of thanks to you three, really.” Neville’s gaze fell to the floor while the blush crept back into his cheeks. Siria socked him lightly in the arm. “What are you talking about? You asked her for it, didn’t you?” She chuckled. Neville rubbed his arm.  
“I suppose.” Neville resigned.  
“Potter-Black, Weasley, did you want to look at the layouts?” Cedric asked them. He rummaged through the sea of papers for the layouts.  
“We’re good.” Ron told him.  
“And Siria is fine, really.” Siria stressed the really.  
“Then ‘Cedric’.” He told her and extended his hand.  
“You’re so weird.” Siria said, but she shook it. His grip was firm, like Sirius’s, but she felt like she would be able to break it off early, if she wanted.  
“So, ‘Mione, I know you know what you’re writing, but what am I writing?” Siria asked.  
“You actually want to write?” Hermione asked and grabbed hold of Siria’s arms. “Really?” She looked through her best friend’s glasses with such honest excitement and eagerness that pink rush through Siria’s face. “Yeah.” Siria uttered.  
“I’d love for you to write anything, really. If you’d do an honest article about things, that would be great. You know, a news article or editorial.” Hermione requested.  
“I guess news?” Siria asked.  
“Why don’t you try both?” Cedric asked. “You might be good with editorials; they’re about convincing people, and you and Hermione are obviously good at that.”  
Siria scratched the back of her neck. Ernie, Hannah, Lily and Neville had gone back to writing their pieces or else adjusting the layouts to work with the advertisements that Ginny had gotten. Ron shrugged at her; he agreed to share coverage of sports with Ginny and Fay, and he wasn’t going to sign up for more. “I don’t know that I’m all that good at persuading people.” Siria confessed. “If I am, I’d think it was more because I’m ‘the Girl Who Lived’ and not because I’m… me” she kept her eyes on Hermione.  
“If you decide you want to try an editorial, you can write under a pen name, but I’d really just love to have you do anything with the Hogwarts Herald.” Hermione smiled at Siria. “If you decide you just want to tag along with people while they do polls or collect interviews, anything.”  
“The Herald is about getting the word out, but there’s more than writing to a paper.” Cedric told her. Siria nodded.  
“I’ll think about what to do, okay?” Siria asked.  
“Of course!” Hermione and Cedric agreed. The two looked to each other and chuckled.  
Ron and Siria excused themselves to the other circle, which was for studying. They had barely gotten their things out when Astoria Greengrass and Colin and Dennis Creevey pulled up chairs on the interior of the circle. Astoria kicked Siria in the shins when she pulled her chair in and apologized so loudly that the room fell quiet to look and make sure everyone was okay. Siria waved it off. Ron had to push his chair out so Dennis, who swung his legs back and forth beneath the table, would stop kicking him.

Around one, the room was packed. Ron had finished his homework and took up playing The Witch’s Labyrinth, which was some sort of strategy game that required players to to maneuver through a changing maze of monsters and riddles to reach the center before the other players. He had won half the rounds he played. Cassius Warrington beat Ron and Cedric in the third round and insisted he didn’t want a rematch. Siria had eyed the game, but allowed Astoria, Colin, and Dennis to occupy her time with Transfiguration questions and Shield Charms until Warrington stole her away to talk Potions.  
Warrington handed Siria his bound notes from his fourth year. “Snape does the same thing for each year, so read up.” He told her. They went over the Potions she would have to brew in the next couple of weeks.  
“Where’s Travers today?” Siria clenched her teeth together the moment she asked. She was supposed to be getting over Travers. Travers was dating Warrington. It didn’t do Siria any good to ask the boyfriend of the girl she liked where she was.  
“P.B. Why don’t you find yourself a nice Gryffindor girl to date?” Warrington asked. Siria choked on a cough. He looked up from his notes to her face. His sharp brown eyes stared directly at her. Siria held her head, but her jaw remained cletched.  
“That Weasley girl obviously likes you. If you don’t want her, you could actually ask Malfoy out, with how much he talks about you, he probably really does like you, and that brunette Hufflepuff with the ink on her face,” Warrington gave a subtle nod to Lily Moon, who was trying to rub the mentioned ink off. “There are plenty of people who aren’t dating anyone, who would be more than happy to have you.”  
“I…” Siria didn’t even know what to say. “Who told you?” She asked.  
“You look at Alice the way Weasley looks at you. It’s not hard to tell.” He told her. “Hey, watch your quill.” Siria had left her freshly filled quill over her parchment and it resulted in a large blotch of ink over her notes. She put it to the side then down. Warrington continued going over his notes and Siria, not wanting to talk more on the subject of relationships, followed.  
Professor Vector didn’t come to the dungeon until just after three and she insisted they leave. “Merlin’s beard! It’s Sunday, my dears. Please, rest before tomorrow.” She told them while she put out the fire places. Hermione and Neville stayed back to take care of jars of blue fire and bowls of Lautus Seaweed. Daphne Greengrass knocked Siria’s shoulder as she past, which sent Siria’s books to the floor. Siria nodded for Ron to go ahead while the girls picked up Siria’s books.  
“You could just talk to me.” Siria whispered as she reached out for the books Daphne picked up.  
“And miss looking at the Transfiguration books you’ve got?” Daphne smirked. “Really though, are you okay?” She placed the books in Siria’s hands. Siria shrugged while the two stood up.  
“As okay as I can be for being called out.”  
“Saw that.” Daphne told her. “Don’t think anyone else did, for what it’s worth.”  
“Hey, Siria,” Cedric caught up. “Hello Greengrass.” Cedric smiled. Daphne forced a smile and looked to Siria.  
“See you.” Daphne nodded and she waved to Cedric.  
“I didn’t mean to scare her off.” Cedric told Siria. “I just wanted to tell you that some of the Hufflepuff Team and I are having a practice Friday evening and wanted to know if you wanted in? The more the merrier.”  
“Sure.” Siria adjusted the strap of her bag while they climbed the stairs. “Kinda sucks the Triwizard Tournament is messing up the Quidditch season.”  
“Really? I think it’s a good mix up, though I’m sorry we won’t get to compete against each other. Not because I want to compete against you, per say. You’re just very direct and I’d like an honest rematch.” He told her. Siria nodded.  
“Yeah. I wouldn’t join the Triwizard Tournament to compete against you, or at all, really.” Siria brushed under nose. After hours in the dungeon, the musty smell of the corridor seemed more prominent than before.  
“Oh?” Cedric asked. “I’d think the Tournament was right up your alley, if there wasn’t an age restriction.”  
“Do you know how many people have died? Besides, as much as my dad might be ‘that’s my kid!’ he’d worry himself to death.” Siria sighed. Even if she could join the Tournament and Srius hadn’t made her perform the Unbreakable Vow to not join, she wouldn't dream of signing up. “To be honest, I’m looking forward to cheering for someone, like Warrington or whoever.”  
“Cassius is signing up?”  
“Yeah. You?”  
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Cedric confessed. “Don’t tell anyone though. I’m only saying because you’ve asked.” He added. “To be honest, I hadn’t thought how my parents would feel about it.”  
“It’d be one thing, if I could enter, and I wrote to Sirius, and he and Remus were both ‘do it! We’d be so proud,’ but I…” Siria shrugged and fidgeted with the zipper on her jacket pocket.  
The two stopped on the Ground Floor. “If you’re the Hogwarts Champ, we’ll all be in your corner. Just, I don’t know, make sure you know what you’re signing up for? Warrington’s parents are over the moon that he’s signing up. Family glory and all that. You’re really smart, so you’d do fine.” Siria rambled.  
“If I sign up, would you be in my corner?” He asked with a smile.  
“Cedric,” Siria looked up at him and placed her hand on his shoulder, “I’m already in your corner.” The extra hand of her watch ticked to 4 o’clock. “I just need to talk to my dad about getting over a girl I don’t stand a chance with, so I’ll catch you later!” Siria nodded and hurried out, onto the grounds, and dashed, full charge, to Hagrid’s cabin.  
Siria’s bag dropped from her shoulder, to the muddy grounds. She leapt into the air and knocked Sirius back with the force of her tackling hug. Hagrid caught the two of them with a single, manhole sized hand. He patted Sirius on the back so hard that Sirius’s knees buckled. “You’re an entire day late!” Siria exclaimed.  
“I wrote you.” Sirius said as he patted down his jacket. Siria crossed her arms.  
“Saying ‘I’ll be late. See you Sunday’,” she shook her head. Sirius extended a letter—a stamped letter.  
“What is this?” Siria asked as she accepted the envelope.  
“A letter.” Sirius told her, at the peak of his unhelpfulness.  
She turned the regular paper envelope in her hands as she opened it. The writing on the return address wasn’t legible at all, but it was clearly addressed to “Siria J. Potter-Black.” It slipped through her fingers from the shock of who it was from. Sirius snatched it before it hit the mud. “What is happening?” She asked and looked to Sirius.  
“Your cousin wrote.”  
“I can see that.” Siria pointed at the letter like it was covered in bubotuber pus.  
“Dudley?” Hagrid cried.  
“Yes!” Sirius and Siria said together, though in completely different tones.  
“Why?” Siria asked Sirius.  
“I haven’t read, it’s your letter.” Sirius told her.  
Hagrid smiled from beneath his massive beard and beamed down at Siria. “Ho’ ‘bout we come in fer tea?” Hagrid suggested. Sirius agreed. Siria’s eyes were glued to the letter, but she pulled her hands to her chest and shuddered from the it whenever Sirius extended it. She followed them inside Hagrid’s cabin and watched the letter like it was going to bite her.  
“Are you late because of the letter?” Siria asked with her hands held to her chest.  
“No.” Sirius told her as he sat down at the table. He laid the letter before the seat beside him. Siria sat down, but kept her chair out and away from the letter. “I’m late because of work and Blast-Ended Skrewts.”  
“What?” Siria asked.  
“My little project, for the older students.” Hagrid told Siria.  
“Little for now.” Sirius grumbled. He pushed the letter closer to Siria. “If you don’t read it, I’ll toss it in the fire.” Siria tsked, but picked the letter up and read. She folded it up and stuffed it back into its envelope.  
“Oh?” Sirius asked. Siria shrugged. “That’s all?”  
“I don’t know.” She shrugged again. “He said thanks for the uniforms and that he’s boxing now.” She looked at the envelope. “He said he ‘guesses’ you’re ‘okay’, so…” Siria sighed. “I’ll write back later.”  
“Yer don’ ‘ave to write ‘im if yer don’ wanna.” Hagrid told Siria as he put the mug of tea before her.  
“Thanks.” She didn’t know what to think of the letter. Dudley had even said he wasn’t expecting a reply and that he just felt like he may as well say thanks because the uniforms Sirius sent were “kinda” working out.  
“I guess a letter from Dudley saying ‘thanks’ is… weird, or something.” She shrugged again before stuffing the letter into her bag and trying to enjoy tea with Hagrid and Sirius.

Back in her dorm, Siria headed straight into her trunk and closed it behind her. She pulled a chair over to the hanging mirror on the bookshelf and sat down with her wand. There was something about Transfiguring her hair to red that was comforting. The red hair was still as wild as her black hair, but it was like her mothers. Part of Siria wondered if the Dursleys would have still tried to torment the magic out of her if she looked more like her mother. She Transfigured her hair until it was flat and the same deep red as her mother’s. Maybe she would leave like this, just for a while.  
Siria took off her glasses and tried to look at the blurry figure before her. She stepped off the chair and took in her features. If she added freckles, she would look even more like her mother. More like Lily Evans and less like James Potter. Her stomach twisted itself into tighter knots. There was one thing from Dudley’s letter she would never tell Sirius. “My parents don’t like Sirius because he was friends with your dad and I think my mom blames your dad for why she stopped talking to them.”


	14. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

**Beauxbatons and Durmstrang**  


Beneath the Invisibility Cloak, Hermione, Ron, and Siria crept toward the painting of the fruit bowl. Siria kept her eyes and wand on the Marauders Map while Ron and Hermione directed her from either side. “It wants us to tickle the pear,” Siria whispered.  
“Tickle the pear?” Ron repeated. He angled his head over Siria’s shoulder. “It really does.” Siria shrugged him off. Hermione stepped up to the painting and, through the Cloak, tickled the pear.  
[Book: B4, 375 the large, green pear turns into a green door and they enter the kitchen]  
The kitchens were filled with an ocean of tiny, blue and grey house elves. Each wore a little apron with the Hogwarts crest on it. Hermione held her breath and looked to Ron and Siria. Ron nodded. Siria yanked the Cloak off of them. She held her breath, but the house elves that noticed three people standing in the kitchen after curfew didn’t seem upset at all.  
“Hungry?” A house elf near them asked.  
“Thirsty?” Another asked.  
“Errr.” Siria looked to Hermione.  
“Actually, we were hoping to talk, if some of you can spare the time.” Hermione smiled at the two house elves. They confessed no one, beside Headmaster Dumbledore, ever comes to talk with them. Siria stuffed the Invisibility Cloak into her mostly empty messenger bag and pointed to the closest table. She and Ron sat down at one of the four long tables that lined up with those in the Great Hall.  
Hermione went down a row of house elves doing dishes, asking them the same series of questions. Occasionally, a house elf would come by and offer some food or something to drink to Ron and Siria. Siria yawned and stretched out onto the table. After an hour of just sitting, Ron had fallen asleep. Hermione seemed to be running at full power with no sign of stopping. Siria yawned and rubbed her eyes. She rested her head on her hand and thought about Kreacher. Maybe she could write him a letter and Sirius could read it. She could teach Kreacher to read himself next summer and he could write to her.  
“Tea, miss?” A high voice asked. Siria nodded. Her eyelids felt so heavy and she was so tired that she kept nodding off. She rubbed her eyes and yawned again. The smell of freshly poured tea made her eyes feel a little lighter. She mixed in some cream and looked to the house elf as she said “Thank you—” Siria froze. The house elf had large, bright green eyes and a long, thin nose.  
“Dobby?” Siria asked as the elf asked “Siria Potter?” The two gave a shared, slow nod.  
“Dobby!” Siria swept the small house elf into a hug. “Thank goodness you’re okay!” She placed Dobby back down. “Sorry. Are you okay?” She asked. Dobby nodded.  
“Dobby is much more than okay! To see Miss Siria Potter again, though Dobby hears you are Potter-Black.” He nodded so much his bat like ears flapped back and forth.  
“It is. Sirius adopted me. Goodness though, what are you doing here?” She asked.  
“It is thanks to you, Miss Siria Potter-Black!” He told her.  
Dobby explained that Kreacher found Dobby and Winky. Kreacher brought Dobby and Winky to Sirius, who brought them to Dumbledore. Dumbledore was more than happy to take on Dobby and Winky. He even agreed to pay Dobby and give Dobby time off. Dobby’s story left Siria with a smile of awe on her face. She was going to write to Kreacher and make Sirius read the letter as soon as he got it.  
“Could I come visit you?” Siria asked over her third cup of tea.  
“Miss Siria Potter-Black wants to visit Dobby? Dobby wants to visit Miss Siria Potter-Black!”  
“I’d love that.” Siria smiled wider. “You know, if you want, we meet in Augusta Dungeon on Sundays and I’m sure everyone would love to meet you.”  
“To meet Dobby, Miss?” He asked.  
“Yeah, but only if you want to.”  
“Dobby would love to meet Miss Siria Potter-Black’s friends!” His sharp voice startled Ron awake.  
“Wha’sit?” Ron looked around, but yawned and nodded back to sleep.  
“Yeah. Um, Dobby, would you mind just calling me ‘Siria’?” She scratched at the back of her neck and sealed her lips together.  
“Dobby would be honored, Miss Siria.” He beamed.  
“Cool.”

**The Hogwarts Herald **  
Sunday, September 28th 2014  
After being out of print for nearly a century, The Hogwarts Herald returns!  
Thanks to the tireless efforts of Hermione Granger and a collective of students,  
this paper will be an outlet for students’ voices and a trustworthy news provider.  
(see more on page 4)  


Siria slung her arm around Hermione and kissed her forehead. “You did it!” She told her. “You really did! And Cedric put you on the front page!” Siria knocked on the paper. A picture of the ocean of house elves in the kitchen, running to put out dishes, was beneath the headline “Slavery Beneath Our Feet”. Hermione took hold of the paper and smiled. “I just hope it helps people see.” She confessed. “I’ll keep writing until they do.” Hermione told the faces of frantic house elves on the cover.  
The school was a buzz with news about the Herald. Hermione couldn’t walk a meter without being congratulated by someone, and she wasn’t the only one. To mark members of the Herald, so students with ideas, questions, or an interest in joining could easily find them, Hermione, Dean Thomas, and Padma Patil designed and made small buttons for them to wear. “H. H.” would write itself the font of the Hogwarts crest, on the front page of a newspaper. True to her humility, Hermione was less excited for her newfound fame than she was over Ron’s changed views. After listening to what sort of things Dobby went through, Ron had completely changed his view on house elves. He was in full support and had even helped Hermione interview some of the elves from the kitchen. It wasn’t until after lunch, when Hermione and Siria were heading out to the Quidditch field that anyone voiced a negative opinion on the paper. “Hey Potter, Granger, are you calling this lot of garbage a paper?” the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy laughed. Hermione linked her arm through Siria’s. Her round brown eyes clearly read “do no fight.” Siria took a strained breath and continued onto the grounds. “Potter!” Malfoy called again. The grip around Siria’s Firebolt tightened. “Running away?” He asked. “I’d run too if my name were on this trash!” Hermione placed her other hand over Siria’s arm and marched with her head held high onto the grounds.  
“That was awfully kind of you.” Siria told Hermione through gritted teeth.  
“As much as I’d love to see you put him in his place, you’d just be stuck holding his hand until Dumbledore and Sirius think you’ve learned your lesson.” Hermione replied. “Besides, aren’t you trying to be nicer?”  
“I’m trying to be nice as you; it’s just a lot harder than it looks.” Siria confessed.  
“I’m not that nice.” Hermione argued.  
“Even when you aren’t talking, you make sure everyone’s fed. Even when no one was on your side, you wanted to help the house elves.” Siria shrugged. “You’re one of the kindest people I know.”  
“You’re one of the toughest people I know.” Hermione smiled at her.  
“I think it’s tougher to be kind or walk away.”  
“Maybe.” Hermione gave Siria’s arm a light squeeze. “Ron and them are waiting. I’ll be in the stands.”  
[Book: B4 230-231 the weeks roll by & Moody starts to put the Imperius Curse on them. Hermione says it’s illegal and Moody tells her she can leave if she wants, but she stays. Moody casts it on Siria and she feels the rush of joy and floating sensation]

There was something familiar about the sensation that filled her, but Siria knew she had worries for as long as she could worry.  
[Book: B4, 231 Moody’s voice enters her head and tells her to jump]

The echoing of the voice in her mind combined with the feeling sent chills through her. Immediately after the voice told her to “Jump onto the desk” another voice shouted in protest. Her knees started to bend, but as if someone was trying to pull her down. “I don’t want to jump!” She insisted against voice that repeated “Jump onto the desk.” There was no way she would. She would sooner walk to the Willow.  
Panic pierced through the floating joyous feeling and Siria collapsed to her knees. She watched her trembling fingers shaking on the ground. “Yes!” Moody praised her for fighting, but it was drown by the panic rushing through her. She knew this feeling and the gravity hit her with weighing panic. Last year, almost exactly a year ago, Peter Pettigrew had cast the Imperius Curse on her in an attempt to draw her to Shrieking Shack.  
“Potter!” Professor Moody shouted. Hermione ran between Professor Moody and Siria.  
“She’s obviously not ready!” Hermione shouted back at him. She pulled Siria to her feet. “Are you alright?” Siria nodded, though she wasn’t entire sure. There wasn’t any pain, but she felt haunted.  
“Can you go again?” Professor Moody asked.  
“Could I have a moment?” Siria asked in reply.  
“You think the Dark Lord is going to give you a moment to catch your breath, do you Potter?” he snapped. Hermione’s grip on Siria’s arm tightened, but Siria patted Hermione’s hand as if to say “I’m fine.”  
“No. Tom wouldn’t. Fine.”  
“That’s it, Potter!”  
[Book: B4, 232-241 Moody continues to put Siria under the Curse until she can resist almost immediately after the curse is placed on her. He continues with the rest of the class. It’s announced that the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will arrive on October 30th. The castle is notably cleaner than usual.]

Thursday morning, Hermione woke extra early and shook Siria. “No.” Siria croaked and rolled over, far more asleep than awake. Hermione tsked. “Siria, you need to Transfigure your hair back.” Hermione told her. She tugged on Siria’s blankets. “People will be looking for you; they know ‘The Girl Who Lived’ attends here. If you don’t do it, I will.” Hermione threatened.  
An hour later, Siria’s flat red hair had been returned to its natural jet black and wild nature. Parvati agreed to french braid Siria’s hair. Lavender and Hermione joined to form a braid train, so they could all match. Siria yawned and nodded off twice. Each time, Parvati pinched Siria’s shoulder. The girls headed to the Great Hall together.  
“Nice hair, Potter!” The drawling voice of Malfoy called. Siria gritted her teeth, but didn’t have the energy to snap back. She’d been woken so early. The excitement in the air hadn’t hit her as it had Lavender and Parvati. If anything, other people being so excited made her more tired.  
[Book: B4 241-247 Beauxbatons arrive first in a small house, carried by Pegasi and Durmstrang arrive in a boat. Viktor Krum is one of the Durmstrang students. Everyone heads back toward the castle]


	15. The Goblet of Fire

**The Goblet of Fire**   


[Book: B4, 248-249 People, including Ron, are in awe that Viktor Krum is there. The Beauxbatons students sit with the Ravenclaw students.]

“What is HE doing?” Ron cursed. Siria looked up to see that Cedric Diggory had approached the Durmstrang students. It looked in every way like he was inviting them to sit at his House table. One way or another, the Durmstrang students made their way over. They sat in the middle of the table. “Krum’s barely a table away!” Ron hissed. Hermione looked to Siria and rolled her eyes.  
Unlike Hermione, Siria understood Ron on this point. She wasn’t quite ready to trip over herself, but, if she got the chance, she’d love to talk with Krum. Rather, she’d love to fly against Krum. Siria doubted she would stand a chance; it would just be nice to know how far behind the professionals she was.  
[Book: B4, 250-253 The Beauxbatons students look cold. There are four chairs added to the head table. Dumbledore welcomes everyone, & Fleur DeLacour gives a derisive laugh. There are dishes for the Beauxbatons & Durmstrang students. Fleur comes over and Ron fumbles over himself while trying to tell her she can take the bouillabaisse. Ron makes a comment that “They don’t make them like that at Hogwarts.”]

“No offense,” Ron added to Siria. Siria looked to Hermione, who had an expression that rivaled Professor McGonagall in stern frustration.  
“You aren’t my type anyway.” Siria smirked.  
“Yeah. You go for those pretty boys.” Ron rolled his eyes. Siria’s smirked widened.  
“Pretty people, really.” Siria scanned down the Slytherin table. Rather than seeing Travers, her eyes fell on Daphne. She looked like the most bored person in the Great Hall. Everyone else at least seemed happy for the food. Daphne didn’t look unhappy, just mildly contented. She was sitting with Astoria, some other second years, Warrington and Travers. Siria’s smirk fell off her face. Travers and Warrington were holding hands. She absently rolled her carrots straight off her plate.  
“Honestly,” Hermione snapped. “I thought you were over her.” She tsked. Siria swept the carrots back onto her plate. “Can’t you find someone single to fall for?”  
“Like who?” Siria asked.  
“Cho Chang is pretty, I suppose. Cedric is known for being handsome and he’s clearly friendly.” Hermione proposed.  
“Wha’re you whis’erin’ o’er?” Ron asked through a mouth full of buttered bread.  
“Hermione thinks I should date Cho—” Siria stopped and her jaw fell when Ron sputtered the mouthful of bread onto her. Her jaw remained frozen in place as Ron choked and laughed. He patted her shoulder. “Don’t joke when I’m eating. I—” he took a gasping breath. “I wasn’t expecting that.” He told her and brushed pieces of bread off Siria’s robes.  
“What’s up?” Fred asked from a few people away from them.  
“Can’t be that funny.” George said and gestured to Siria’s crumb covered robes. Ron shrugged it off and took in another mouthful. Siria shuddered. Hermione placed her hand on Siria’s shoulder, but Siria trembled beneath it.  
“Time and place.” Siria told herself. She dusted more of the partially chewed pieces of bread onto the floor. “Time and place.” She repeated to herself. Sirius had been very clear, as if he knew from experience, to never let anger be the reason she came out. To tell people when she was ready. Straight people don’t make public announcements that they’re straight, she didn’t owe anyone an announcement that she wasn’t. She turned back to her plate and looked to Hermione. “If I ever go public, I’m writing nothing but the gayest shit I can find to write about.” She swore. Hermione cracked a smile.  
“When you go public, I’ll be right there to help you find only gayest gold there is.” Hermione promised.  
[Book: B4, 253-256 Barty Crouch and Ludo Bagman show up because they helped put things together. After the meal, Dumbledore introduces Bagman & Crouch, Filch starts to bring up the casket. Dumbledore explains there are three tasks that will be spaced out over the course of the year; the challenges are designed to test a variety of things from the champion from each school. The Headmasters, Bagman, & Crouch will score people according to different measures depending on the task. He announces that the champions will be selected from the Goblet of Fire, which he lights, then tells everyone that if they wish to enter they need to put in their name and school. Dumbledore continues that students have until the end of tomorrow’s Halloween feast to submit their name. He stresses that any student that puts their name in will be magically bound to compete if they are chosen, so they should only enter if they’re completely resolved to do so. Upon learning Dumbledore is drawing an Age-Line, Fred and George are even more determined to compete. Hermione warns them that it wont work, but they’re sure it will.]

“You want in?” George asked Siria. Fred nudged her with his elbow.  
“No way.” She told them. “I’ve had three years of crazy rubbish and it’s finally my turn to just sit back and watch someone else do the crazy thing.” Siria held herself in her arms. “If one of you gets in, I’ll help you prepare if you want it, but count me out.”  
“Really?” Ron asked. “But…”  
“We get it!” Fred sighed.  
“Protecting the Sorcerer’s Stone, finding the Chamber of Secrets,” George listed.  
“We’ll take this one then,” Fred grinned.  
“If you can pass the Age-Line,” Hermione tsked.  
[Book: B4, 257-258 They meet Karkaroff at the door and stop to let him and his students through, but he stops and gawks at Siria. His students also stare at Siria. Professor Moody comes through, spooks Karkaroff who can’t believe Moody is there, but Moody gets Karkaroff to move because they’re blocking the door. Siria notes Moody’s face is distorted more than usual with unmistakably intense dislike.]

Friday classes had been cancelled to allow students the opportunity to put their names in at their leisure. To Ron and Siria, any reason not to have Potions was a great reason to not have Potions. They headed down early with their homework to watch students put their names in the Goblet. “Do you suppose the potion will work?” Ron asked Siria.  
“Look mate, you want to put your name in, do it. I’ll have your back.” Siria assured him. “Hermione’ll lose it though.” She added.  
“Reckon you’re right.” Ron tsked. For as much as Siria wanted to support Ron if he entered, she was against him entering. They were at least two years younger than any other student entering. Unless they could get a Time Turner, she couldn’t think of a way to catch up in experience or even general exposure to the tasks.  
[Book: B4, 259-261 Beauxbatons’s students have put their names in. The Weasley twins & Lee Jordan take the age potion. The twins step over the line, but are shot out and grow beards. Two other students also tried an age potion. Dumbledore chuckles & sends them to Madam Pomfrey. Angelina Johnson puts her name in.]

“What’re we going to do today?” Ron asked. Siria shrugged.  
“I’m good to watch people put in their names. Might be nice to just relax.” She confessed.  
“We’ve so much work though!” Hermione protested. She had her nose deep in The Standard Book of Spells Grade 4, though Ron and Siria were nearly certain she had read through it twice.  
“So, what? You want to go to the library?” Ron sighed.  
“Yes, but I also want to check on Dobby.” Hermione said.  
“I’d be…” Siria began, but she trailed off.  
Thundering, synced applause, echoed up from the dungeon. The Slytherin seventh and sixth years were surrounded by their younger peers. While the younger students circled around, the elder ones lined up. One at a time, the Slytherin students put their names into the Goblet of Fire. It looked like every student of age had done so. Even the black haired girl that taunted “Poor Potter” on the train last year put her name in. Astoria and Daphne were in the crowd of supporting students. Daphne kept hold of her younger sister’s shoulders. Astoria applauded with each name, but there was an evident crease in her forehead.  
Her hands seemed glued together when Cassius Warrington put his name in. The usual light of excitement and cheerfulness was gone from her eyes. She bit her lips together. Daphne looked from Warrington to Travers, who was in crowd of Slytherin students opposite. Hermione patted Siria on the shoulder.  
“I’m sure Warrington will be fine.” Hermione gave a fragile smile that showed she wasn’t convinced herself. “With all the other students, it’s so unlikely you’ll actually know the champion.” Siria nodded and tried to agree, but the words were lost. She knew Warrington was signing up. There was a gravity to seeing Warrington’s name burst into flames within the Goblet that cemented the binding contract. “They changed a lot of things; he’ll be okay.” Hermione said, but Siria’s own words echoed in her mind: people have died.  
[Book: B4, 267-270 The trio passes time until the feast starts. Everyone eats then the champions are chosen. From Durmstrang it’s Viktor Krum and from Beauxbatons it’s Fleur Delacour. Dumbledore receives the third piece of parchment from the Goblet.]

“The Hogwarts champion,” he called, “is Cassius Warrington!” (crazybutperfectlysane, Tumblr).  
“No!” cried Ron and he wasn’t the only one. The Slytherin table erupted in applause, but no one else seemed to. Siria wanted to clap, but her mind seemed to stop working and her heart ached. Hermione patted Siria’s shoulder and pulled her close to whisper, “he’ll be okay. They took a lot of precautions.” She hugged Siria close with her one arm while Siria watched the Slytherin table. Three faces in particular had the same sad smile that showed strain: Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, and Alice Travers.  
[Book: B4, 270-271 Dumbledore sends Warrington off to the room with the others and encourages people, especially those visiting, to cheer for their champions. The Goblet lights red, as it did when it selected the other champions, and spits out another name. Dumbledore catches it, & pauses for a moment before reading: Siria Potter]


	16. The Four Champions

**The Four Champions**   


[Book: B4, 272 Siria is in shock that her name was called. Professor McGonagall whispers to Dumbledore]  
Hermione had tightened her grip around Siria and seemed to be holding her breath. Ron stared, wide-eyed and open mouthed at Siria. The Gryffindor table, the Great Hall even, watched Siria. She shook her head in quick, small trembles. “B—Black” her voice cracked. That was right, she wasn’t “Siria Potter” she was “Siria Potter-Black,” so there was a mistake.  
[Book: B4, 273 Dumbledore calls her name again]  
Ron tugged Hermione’s arm. “Dumbledore’ll fix it.” Ron told Siria. Hermione trembled as she nodded. “We’ve got you,” Ron assured her.  
[Book: B4, 273 Siria gets up and stumbles, but goes through the doors and into the room with Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cassius Warrington, who all look impressive, and are surprised to see her. Fleur asks if Siria is there to deliver a message.]

“P.B.?” Warrington asked. Siria couldn’t reply. He reached out to her, but Ludo Bagman swept up Siria’s arm.  
[Book: B4, 274-276 there’s an argument on Hogwarts getting two champions, Siria being too young, and if Siria put her name in the Goblet]

Dumbledore asked Siria, in a tone even more calm and patient than he used in their summer lessons “Siria, did you place your name in the Goblet of Fire?” Siria’s head shook. The weight of the eyes in the room made it difficult.  
“Couldn’t’ve” she whispered. Dumbledore leaned in. “I could not have put my name in.” Siria repeated. Her fists were clenched and her words starting pouring out “It shouldn’t matter though— the contract can’t be valid! I’m Potter-BLACK.” She gestured to herself as if it were written on her face. “Someone signed up ‘Siria Potter’, not ‘Siria Potter-Black’, right?” Siria’s brow furrowed more and more as she scanned across the faces in the room. Even Dumbledore’s face read was worried. “C— can’t you fix it?” Siria asked as her voice cracked.  
“Are you saying that— that the magic makes it ‘wing-GAR-dee-um levi-O-sa’ doesn’t apply to— to being Potter-Black and not Potter?” Siria felt the room spinning. She took a stumbling step back. Warrington reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m only fourteen.” Siria whispered. Sirius was going to worry himself to death.  
[Book: B4, 277-282 It’s concluded that Siria must compete in the tournament. Moody says that someone must have used a very strong Confundus Charm on the Goblet to make it think there were four schools. There’s a lot of arguing, but Siria has been magically bound and no one has a way to get her out. There won’t be any details on the first task because it’s meant to test the champions’ courage. They send the students away.]

Once they returned to the Great Hall, Warrington placed his hand on Siria’s shoulder. She was only vaguely aware of it. A deep, sinking feeling of doom and misery had taken over her insides. It was as if the contentment to watch had been carved out of her along with any hope of having a quiet, normal year. “Normal” Siria thought. That was her problem. Given her past three years at Hogwarts, a “normal” year had at least one deadly encounter. She should have hoped for a boring year.  
“Potter-Black!” Warrington called. He gave her shoulder a squeeze and something about the coldness of his hand pulled Siria together. She looked up at him.  
“I might actually die this year.” Siria confessed.  
“You won’t. We’ll help each other. If either of us wins, it’s a win for Hogwarts.” He told her.  
“How could I help you? You’re two years ahead of me! I’m— I’m—and Sirius.” Siria clutched the pendants of her necklace, a silver “S” and small star. “I’ve still never spent Christmas with my dad, or his birthday, or New Years…”  
“You’ll get to!” Warrington clapped Siria on the back with such force her knees buckled beneath her.  
“Pull yourself together, P.B. Honestly, thank goodness I was chosen because you’d never live this down. If you don’t calm down, you’ll die of stress before the first task.” Siria gave a shaking nod. “Who tackled the Professors’ challenges to get the Sorcerer’s Stone?” Warrington barked. Siria’s trembling fingers pointed herself. “Who not only found the Chamber of Secrets, but killed the monster inside?” He continued and she stopped trembling. “This is like any other year, except you’ve got me. Don’t let anyone see you afraid.”  
Warrington headed down to the Slytherin common room, in the dungeons, and Siria made the long climb up to Gryffindor Tower. So what if someone was trying to kill her with the Goblet of Fire? Dumbledore would be right there, wouldn’t he? Warrington would be. They could find somewhere to practice…  
Siria made a detour to the painting of the miserable man, still struggling to teach the trolls ballet. “Hello again” she smiled at him. He sighed. “I just wanted to let you know, you’ll be seeing a lot of me again, until I can figure out what you’re hiding. I need a good place to practice and I feel good about here.” She smirked at the fumbling trolls in their ballet shoes and remembered how determined she was when she stood here as a first year student. It wasn’t that the determination had left, it was just channeled to other things. This time, she’d find a good place to practice and make it through the tournament— even if she had to lose.  
[Book: B4, 284-286 the Gryffindors are celebrating that Siria is a champion & she makes nice for a moment before going to her dorm.]

When the door opened, Hermione stopped pacing to throw her arms around Siria’s neck. Siria gave a small sigh of relief and hugged Hermione back. She nuzzled her head against Hermione’s bushy hair and chuckled. “I’ll be okay,” Siria told her. “It’s me, afterall. I’m literally known for living.” Hermione broke the hug to hold Siria’s face in her hands.  
“This will not be like the Chamber of Secrets! I will be there for you the entire time. You’re my best friend.” Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and she swept Siria back into her arms with a suppressed shudder. “You’re— you’re going to be fine!”  
“I know, ‘Mione.” Siria smiled and patted Hermione’s back. “I know.” She hoped.


	17. The Room of Requirement

**The Room of Requirement**   


Mud and grass were caked into Siria’s boots. Her panting was drowned out by a cold, echoing laugh that surrounded her like the darkness. Masked figures materialized from smoke and caused Siria to turn and run back. She stumbled over a long, withered tree root and fell into the mud. It started to bubble and rise. Siria yanked herself up, but the more she thrashed the quicker the mud rose. All the while, the cold laugh continued to echo around her, joined by the masked figures.   
Siria Potter-Black clattered to the floor of her dorm in Gryffindor Tower. Fay Dunbar and Hermione Granger had ripped away the comforter and drawn Siria off the bed as well. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil stood at the foot of Siria’s bed, wearing the same worried expressions and matching baby blue nightgowns. Siria propped herself up on her arms and sighed. She smelt like she had just finished Quidditch practice. “I’m... fine.” Siria said and let herself drop completely to the floor.  
“By my screaming and thrashing, I have obviously just had a nightmare, but am fine.” Lavender said in a flat and clearly annoyed tone while she crossed her arms. Parvati knelt down beside Siria. “Talk with us. I know we gossip, but we won’t tell anyone.” Parvati promised.  
“We didn’t tell anyone about your nightmares, not even Padma!” Lavender stressed. Siria scanned over the four girls looking at her. She wanted to say she was fine. It was so much easier to lie and say she was fine than to confess she really was worried about the Tournament.  
“I…” Siria cursed at the ground. It was cold and she felt tired and gross.  
“Siria Potter-Black, if you say you’re ‘fine’ I’m going to start a dogpile.” Fay told her. Siria rose to her feet and glared at them.  
“I’m scared! Are you happy?” Siria shouted. “I’m behind everyone else in the Tournament, Sirius is going to think I somehow did it even though I couldn’t’ve, and Professor Moody thinks someone put my name in to kill me!”  
Much to Siria’s surprise, the other girls huddled around her and wrapped her a large, uncoordinated group hug. Siria stumbled from their weight and the lot of them fell to the floor. “Oh, Siria” Hermione tsked as she brushed some of Siria’s wild black hair from her face. “You aren’t alone.”  
“Yeah!” Fay agreed. “We’ll help you prepare.”  
“Of course we will!” Lavender insisted and snuggled against Siria’s arm.  
“Siria,” Parvati stretched an arm across Lavender to pat Siria’s back. “We’re friends, so let us help you.”  
“I just…” Siria stretched her arms out and pulled the other girls in closer. “Thank you.”

Late Saturday morning, Siria woke up in a cocoon of blankets in the middle of the dorm room. It was a tangle of blankets from all of their beds and smelt like a mix of flowers, soap, and sweat. She rolled onto the stone floor, which was much warmer than it was last night. An excited, high voice filled the room. “Miss Siria!” Dobby squeaked. He extended a small glass of water to Siria, which she accepted in her tired haze.  
“What’re you doing here?” Siria murmured.  
“Miss Hermione asked if Dobby wouldn’t mind, and Dobby doesn’t mind at all, Miss Siria! Dobby was more than happy to look after Miss Siria. Once Dobby heard Miss Siria wasn’t well, Dobby asked Master Dumbledore immediately if Dobby could help.” Siria nodded along as Dobby explained, and she sipped the water.  
“Is there anything Dobby can do for Miss Siria?” Dobby asked. Siria opened her mouth to say “no,” but thought about for just a moment longer.  
“Actually, Dobby, do you happen to know a good place to be loud when it’s late? I’m going to need to practice a lot and…” Siria stole a look to her trunk. She couldn’t imagine dragging her trunk under the Invisibility Cloak to practice with Warrington, or what Peeves would do to her trunk if he found it. Siria also didn’t feel up to practicing in the Chamber of Secrets.  
“Dobby knows!” He told her. “Dobby could show Miss Siria!” He squeaked.  
Dobby and Siria stood before the wall opposite the painting of the miserable man. Siria paced back and forth as Dobby instructed. “A large room,” she thought. “A large room with plenty of lighting, some books for Hermione, and a practice dummy!” Siria repeated the thoughts as she paced. Just as Dobby had told her, from the solid stone wall a thick, wooden door appeared. Siria tugged the iron handle and stepped inside with Dobby.  
“Welcome!” Dobby squeaked as the door closed behind them, “to the Come and Go Room or the Room of Requirement.” The large, round room had a series of books along the walls that stopped just low enough to be sat on. A long, short cushion lined the top of the bookshelf and Siria sat down. For a long moment, Dobby and Siria sat in silence and simply admired the room. Small orbs of hung from the ceiling and lit the room in a warm green light.  
As Siria had asked for, there was a wooden practice dummy near the back of the round room. It was the only place that didn’t have the low bookshelf behind it. Instead, the wall was made of a soft cushion that reminded Siria of what she had used as a mattress in her cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive.  
“Dobby, is there anything I can do for you?” Siria asked.  
“Miss Siria has already freed Dobby, and Miss Siria and Miss Hermione and Mister Ron are helping Dobby get all house elves freed. Dobby could not ask for more from Miss Siria.” He told her. She smiled at him, but wished there was something else she could do. There was so much more work to be done before they freed any non-Hogwarts house elves, and still so much to do for the other Hogwarts house elves to adjust to their freedom.  
“If Dobby may though, Miss Siria.” Dobby looked into her almond shaped green eyes with his own tennis ball sized ones. “Dobby would like to ask Miss Siria of something, if Dobby really may for anything.”  
“Of course!” Siria agreed at once.  
“Could Miss Siria please, if Miss Siria is able, be safe in the Triwizard Tournament?” He asked. Siria wrapped Dobby into a hug.  
“I will.” She promised. Even if she had to lose, Siria was going to make it out alive.  
Dobby left Siria after awhile. She took to trying to write a letter. “Dear Sirius” was all that remained legible on the parchment. The rest of the roll was a series of crossed off false starts of things like “Professor Moody thinks someone tricked the cup and entered me” and “Obviously I didn’t do it!” but none of them felt right. She rested her head down on the table. Beside her head, a small pillow materialized from the room. Siria pulled it under her head then continued to stare at her letter. When she thought about how she would need another roll of parchment, one appeared from the room.  
Siria watched the newly materialized roll as if it would explain to her why students had to purchase supplies when the room could make them. She picked up the parchment, which felt the same as the ones she bought and flattened it onto the table. The ink bottle and quill were of the same fine quality. Maybe, if she thought hard enough on it or felt she needed to know rather than wanted to know, the room would tell her how it worked some day.  
She dipped the quill into the ink bottle, but her watch ticked and she knew Sirius was somewhere on the grounds. Siria rushed out of the room and onto the grounds so quickly that she didn’t catch the jeers from the Slytherin students. They meshed into the cheers from her fellow Gryffindors and the occasional Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw student.  
In the cold November air, her throat burned. Each breath filled her lungs with a chilling fire as she gasped, hands on her knees to steady herself, before Hagrid’s cabin. Siria wiped the cold sweat from her forehead and chuckled. “Had— had I known— you’d be out” she gasped, “I’d’ve— I’d’ve worn—something—warmer!” Her father swept her into his arms and rested his face on the top of her head. “Dad?” Siria asked. “Dad?” She tugged on the back of his jacket. “Sirius, I’ll be okay.”  
“How did this even happen?” Sirius asked when he finally broke apart. He paced in the muddy, frosted grounds before Hagrid’s cabin. Siria held herself in her arms and rubbed her frigid fingers against her chilled skin. Sirius tsked. “Sorry. Let’s go in.” Hagrid had a roaring fire going in the cabin and had already poured them tea. He looked to Sirius “Minute longer an’ I’d’ve gon’ to get yer two!” Hagrid chuckled as he handed Siria the piping hot mug. With how cold her fingers were, it hurt to hold the mug, but was comforting.  
Rather than drinking his tea, Sirius paced the small space in the cabin while Hagrid and Siria sat at the table. Hagrid beamed down at Siria and patted her back. She smiled up at him. “I’ll be okay.” She told Hagrid. The more Siria said it, the more she started to believe that maybe she would be. “It’s mostly disappointing because I wanted to watch someone else do the crazy thing for a change.”  
Over the brim of her tea cup, Siria inhaled the steam. It filled her with even more courage. “Afterall,” she thought, “I’m in Gryffindor. We’re brave.” She gulped some of the tea. “The first task is about testing our courage, so we don’t know what it is.” She told them.  
“Well, if i’s courage, yer got a moun’ain worth!” Hagrid assured her. Sometimes, Siria doubted it. When she needed to be, she could, but the fact she had actual time to prepare for the unknown and deadly made her wonder if she could prepare enough.  
“You’ll be fine.” Sirius told her as he finally sat down. “I’ll come by every Saturday and we’ll practice… something.” He sighed and looked to Siria. “No matter what you need, we’ll get it so you can be as prepared as possible.”  
“But, for the tasks, I only get my wand.” Siria said.  
“Only get yer wand?” Hagrid cried. “Only? Siria, a witch’s wand is her best frien’! Don’ need more than a wand.”  
“It’s true. Anything else you may need, you could just summon to you.” Sirius added.  
“Like Serpensortia?” Siria asked.  
“Or like Accio,” Sirius told her. “I could have sworn you did that…” He trailed off for a moment. “That’s fine. It’s easy enough to learn, but you may not need it…” Sirius trailed off again. He placed his hand on Siria’s arm. “I’m sorry I’m not more prepared to help today.”  
“It’s not like I’m prepared!” Siria forced out a laugh.  
“Yer will be!” Hagrid insisted. He patted on her small back. “Yer’ve got us an’ Hermione an’ Ron. Yer’ve got Dumbledore on yer side, Siria.”  
“But I’m not supposed to get help from the judges.” Siria said.  
“You’re not even supposed to be in the Tournament!” Sirius spoke so loudly that he startled Fang.  
Once they calmed Fang down and he took to drooling over Siria’s jeans, Sirius rubbed the creases out of his brow. “Siria, as far as I’m concerned, none of the rules apply to you. You’re a fourth candidate in a contest for three. Don’t try to win, just focus on completing the tasks.” He slid his hand from his forehead to his mouth and muttered about watching.  
“She could win if yer’d let ‘er try.” Hagrid told Sirius.  
“Of course she could! This isn’t about winning though; it’s about the fact someone is trying to kill her just after Death Eaters matched across the field at the World Cup. It’s right after we saw the Dark Mark for the first time over a decade. Voldemort—” Hagrid winced at the name, “is practically announcing his return with a parade.” Sirius’s voice strained to keep its tone.  
“But I’m the Girl Who Lived” Siria stretched her mouth into a smile. “Really though, I’ll make it out alive. Even Warrington said he’ll help and Dobby showed me a great place I can practice!” She pushed out her chair to go around the table and hug Sirius. “I’m going to be okay. My dad’s helping me prepare.” Sirius scoffed, but even he cracked a grin.

Augusta Dungeon had been done up with bowls of Lautus Seaweed, extra jars of blue fire, and its two fireplaces were full of roaring life. The Hogwarts Herald staff had already arrived and gotten settled when Ron and Siria arrived. Hermione called them over to Herald’s circle and Siria was patted on the back while she past.  
“Siria!” Cedric shook Siria’s hand while he patted her shoulder and looked her square in the face. “If there’s anything you need, we’re all here for you.” He assured her. Siria wrinkled her nose as she tried not to blush and muttered “thanks.”  
“For a minute there, Potter-Black,” Ernie Macmillan started before patting Siria’s shoulder, “I wondered how you could have joined, but, once Cedric told us what you said, I knew you wouldn’t have put your own name in.”  
“Thanks.” Siria nodded awkwardly. She wondered how many people would think she magiced her way into the Triwizard Tournament. With a terse breath, she straightened herself up.  
“Think about it.” Siria thought, “You didn’t care about the Malfoy rumors and you started those. Don’t let it get to you.” She tried to tell herself. There would always be someone that thought she put in her own name, even if there was no way she could have as a fourth person. Siria pulled out a chair near Terry Boot and sat down.  
“Ready for the interview?” Terry smiled at her. Siria shrugged.  
“Ready as I’ll ever be?” She replied. Cedric moved his things to Terry’s side.  
“Don’t worry Siria. We’ll only print what you’re comfortable with us printing, okay? We’re the students’ voice, and you’re a student.” Cedric assured her.  
“Besides, the Triwizard Tournament is probably stressful enough without the publicity.” Terry added. “You don’t have to do the interview if you don’t want to— or Hermione could do it.” Siria laughed.  
“Thanks, but I’m pretty sure Hermione has enough on her plate right now.” Siria grinned. There was something about laughing that pushed her nerves away.  
Terry and Cedric gave Siria time to think about her answers, so the twenty questions took an hour to go through. Lily Moon interviewed Warrington, who arrived half an hour after Siria, and finished just before her. Warrington sat down with Travers, the Greengrass sisters, the Creevey brothers, and two of Astoria’s second year friends. “Thanks Siria, you did great.” Cedric told Siria and shook her hand. She nodded in reply before shaking Terry’s hand and going to sit near Warrington.  
“If you see Slytherin’s in pins, I’m sorry.” Warrington told Siria as she laid out her copy of his fourth year Potion notes. Astoria’s two Slytherin friends put their hands over the left breast of their robes, which caught Siria’s attention. It just looked like they were covering up buttons.  
“Why would you be sorry?” Siria asked. “Everyone would love to have more Slytherin students on the Herald.” Astoria reached into her pocket and looked bitterly at what she withdrew before she slid it across the table.  
“I’m sorry.” Astoria whispered.  
“I made her take it.” Daphne told Siria in a flat tone. She didn’t bother looking up. Siria picked the button off the table.  
“But they’re cool.” Siria argued.  
Over a quartered background of red, green, yellow, and blue were the words “Support Warrington” with “The True Hogwarts Champion”. It did have safety pin backing instead of the magnetic ones the Herald used. There was a small switch, which Siria slid. The background turned puke green. “Support Warrington, The True Hogwarts Champion” was replaced with a small, cartoon poop, labeled “Siria Pooper”. She dropped into an incredulous smile. “That’s almost primary level bullying.” Siria sighed.  
“Don’t let them get to you,” Travers told Siria as she swept the button back and switched its message.  
“Mostly I’m disappointed they couldn’t come up with something clever.” Siria told them. She scanned through the notes to antidotes.  
Professor Vector arrived at two sharp to shoo them from the room. Warrington had a letter with instructions on how to access the Room of Requirement and to meet them tonight, just after nine, for their first practice. Siria’s heart was racing. She was a champion for the Triwizard Tournament and would be sneaking out to practice with the actual Hogwarts champion. As she sat down in the Room of Requirement with Hermione and Ron, she smiled to herself. With how much confidence she had right now, getting through alive would be just another year at Hogwarts.


	18. The Weighing of the Wands

**The Weighing of the Wands**   


Monday morning, the Gryffindor and Slytherin fourth years headed from Hagrid’s cabin to the Great Lake. Hagrid and Sirius figured that it only made sense to use the Hogwarts grounds for at least one challenge, so Siria needed to be familiar with the Great Lake and the Forbidden Forest. “Go on in.” Hagrid told them. The students looked around at each other in complete disbelief. There was was frost on the ground.  
Siria squeezed her eyes shut and reminded herself that Madam Pomfrey could cure the cold with a single potion. She sat on the edge of the Lake and began rolling up her robes. Hermione and Ron followed suit. “I can’t believe this,” Ron grumbled through the corner of his mouth.  
“Madam Pomfrey can cure almost anything,” Hermione whispered back.  
Other Gryffindor students started the same process and the Slytherin students started after Daphne Greengrass stepped in. Her face was flat as stepped into the chilling waters. “What?” She asked them. “Worried you’ll drown in the shallows?” Daphne smirked to Pansy Parkinson and her friends.  
Knee deep in the chilling Lake, Siria snuck her wand out and pointed it at the water below her. She wove her wand in spiral and whispered “Calor Aquae!” A rush of warmth shot into the water and rippled out. Hermione elbowed Siria, who smirked in reply. “What?” She whispered.  
“One of these days, you’re going to get in trouble.” Hermione hissed.  
“Come off it Hermione.” Ron shrugged and loosened up. “I finally don’t feel like the lake’ll give me frostbite.”  
Hagrid reviewed Grindylows, the water demons; merfolk, which chose to label themselves as Beasts to avoid the association with vampires; the giant squid, though all the students knew about that; and the variety of fish that lived in the Great Lake, some of which grew comfortable enough with the students to swim around them.   
Near the end of the lesson, as students were climbing out, Siria gasped. Something long and slimy wrapped around her leg. She grabbed onto the back of Ron’s robes. He pulled on Siria’s arms while she pulled at the vine with one hand and used her other to hold onto Ron. “Neville!” Hermione called and waved. Neville, who had gotten his socks and shoes back on, leapt into the water and rushed to Siria. “Oh, no! Don’t pull it, tickle it,” Neville told her. Ron and Siria exchanged a look of “What?”  
“Tickle?” They asked, but the slimy, almost clear vines had loosened their grip in a wave of bubbles.  
“It’s just, Cachinnant Algarum.” Neville explained, “Giggle Kelp.” He added. The vines waved back and forth, sending out bubbles, before poking over the surface of the water. It looked like someone had made a ball of clear spaghetti, smelt like rotten fish, and seemed to be purring bubbles as Neville continued to tickle it. “After Professor Moody gave me that book on Mediterranean plants, Professor Sprout opened her personally collection to me.” Neville told them.  
The Giggle Kelp followed Neville to the edge of the Lake, where they helped each other out. Siria used the steaming spell, Aer Calidus, to dry Neville’s clothes. They finished drying and dressing just as class finished. Siria reached to put her wand away when something knocked hard into her shoulder and she fell back into the chilling water. Draco Malfoy scoffed. “With skills like that, how do you expect to last ten minutes in the Tournament, Potter?” He asked. “Shame you didn’t make better friends.” Malfoy raised his head.  
Beneath the water, Siria clutched her wand. Spells rushed through her mind in what felt like the fanning of pages. “Flipendo!” She barked with her wand directed at Malfoy. He flew backward and tumbled over. Siria rose to her feet and as Ron helped her up from the Lake, Hermione and Neville stepped between them, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy. “Densaugeo!” Malfoy cried. “Protego!” the four Gryffindors cast their Shield Charms. It landed just off center from Neville’s and struck Hermione.  
“ENOUGH!” Hagrid roared beneath Siria’s “Stupefy!” Her spell hit Crabbe who stepped in the way while no doubt trying to step away. Crabbe froze mid-step and fell to the ground. Siria glared over the tip of her wand, at Malfoy, who returned the stare, but their duel was done. Hagrid lifted Crabbe up and escorted Hermione to the Hospital Wing. “When my father hears…” Malfoy cursed.  
“Grow up!” Siria shouted at him. “Can’t do anything without daddy dearest, can you?” Ron tugged on Siria’s arm. She turned to glare at him, but saw the same look of anger and frustration on his face. “Fine.”  
Divination was even more awful than usual though. Whenever Professor Trelawney walked past Siria, she would dramatically suppress a shuddering sob and she had past Siria three times during their lesson. The entire time, Neville, Ron, and Siria asked the others variations of “how do you think Hermione is?” They hurried to the Hospital Wing to check on Hermione, who had already been released. “Shame Crabbe was a quick fix too” Ron muttered.  
Hermione wasn’t in the Gryffindor common room, her dorm room, or the library. Ron looked to Siria then at Neville, who was clearly worried. Silently, Ron was asking if they should show Neville the Room of Requirement. Siria nodded and they headed to the Room. Ron paced, thinking of what Hermione would ask for. “Almost can’t believe you didn’t just tell me.” Siria told the miserable man in the painting. He tsked at her. “Can’t you leave to other paintings?”  
“What’s the point? They all just laugh.” The man told her. Ron called over his shoulder and Siria waved good-bye to the portrait.  
“Your teeth!” Siria gasped at Hermione and leaned in until her nose was almost was almost touching Hermione. Hermione held her even, smooth teeth in a smile as Siria admired them. “How did Madam Pomfrey do it?” Siria asked.  
“Shrinking Charm,” Hermione loosened the tension in her smile as she laughed. Neville looked around the Room and, on the cushions of the bookshelf beside him, a small stack of other books appeared.  
“Welcome to the Team Keep Siria Alive,” Ron joked as he took a seat.  
“Neville’s been on the Team,” Hermione tsked.  
“To the Headquarters then.”

“Ouch!” Ron’s voice groaned in the seemingly empty Room of Requirement. There wasn’t a shadow to be found on the green lit room. “Sorry!” Neville’s voice replied, followed by a small thud. “Hermione!” Siria’s voice, obviously irritated, called out.  
“Revilio!” Hermione’s voice repeated through the room. First she appeared, as if from under the Invisibility Cloak. Then Siria, Neville, and finally Ron. Neville got to his feet before lending Siria a hand, which was only fair as he had been the one to knock her down.  
“Remind me why we can’t—” Siria started, but clenched her jaw closed at the stern expression on Hermione’s face. Hermione crossed her arms, but kept her wand in her hand. “You know Revilio, I don’t see why you don’t just learn the Invisibility Spell.” Hermione told Siria.  
“What if we permanently invisible ourselves?” Ron asked. Neville nodded in eager agreement.  
“I can hardly make the dummy invisible and you want me to make myself invisible?” Siria asked.  
“You might need it.” Hermione said.  
“She MIGHT need a lot of things.” Ron retorted, as he took a seat at the round table.  
The door to the Room of Requirement opened, footsteps sounded, then the door closed and Warrington, Travers, and Travers’s friend Maddy Selwyn appeared. “Still cool,” Maddy told Warrington and Travers. Maddy had deep olive skin and long dark brown hair that waved at its ends. Siria drew her eyes away from Maddy’s plump thighs to Travers’s face.  
“Why don’t you have to say it?” Siria asked as she continued to pull the books Sirius had brought her earlier that evening out of her bag.  
“You’re joking?” Travers rolled her bright, brown eyes. Even if they didn’t make Siria’s heart skip anymore, Siria couldn’t help staring at the way the green of the room’s lights called out the green undertones of Travers’s eyes. “We’re working on silent casting today then— can’t have you announcing to the world what you’re doing.” The smell of Travers’s strawberry bubblegum started to drift through the room. Siria placed her hand over her heart, but it wasn’t racing like it used to. She was starting to think she might finally be over Travers.  
While Siria worked on trying to cast silently, Warrington practiced his Shield Charm against Hermione and Maddy. Neville and Ron took turns using the practice dummy as Travers did her homework. To Siria it felt like when they first started their study group, in the second year. She loved how large the group had gotten, especially with the added people for the Hogwarts Herald, but missed the intimacy of a small group and being able to participate in everything.  
“DUCK!” Warrington called. Siria instinctively whipped around, drew a line across herself and shouted “PROTEGO!” The blast of red light shot back toward Warrington, who was able to direct it to the ground. Neville, who had been on the other side of Siria, seemed frozen. “Well, seems like a good place to call it a night.” Maddy suggested. The others nodded and Siria went to pack her books.  
“What’s this?” Maddy asked and swept one of the books off the table. Siria’s face flushed. She reached for the book, but retracted her hand back before extending it to ask.  
“Not anything,” Siria choked.  
“Coming Out?” Maddy read the cover aloud with a question. Hermione gasped and covered up her reaction with excitement.  
“You were able to get a copy!” She called and reached out to accept the book from Maddy. “My parents have been looking everywhere for it! Could I borrow Hedwig to tell them I got it?” Hermione asked. Maddy handed the book to Hermione, who smiled her newly lined up smile.  
“Muggle thing then?” Maddy asked.  
“Yup!” Hermione and Siria immediately agreed.  
“Hmmm.” Maddy eyed them suspiciously, but stopped when Travers and Warrington disappeared from sight. “See you, Potter-Black, Granger,” Maddy nodded and tapped her head with the tip of her wand, turning herself invisible.

Friday’s Double Potions ended early for Siria, when Colin Creevey came to collect her. Siria slid Warrington’s notes to Neville and raised her hand to her lips and mouthed “Sorry” to Hermione, Neville, and Ron (B4, 301). With her gone, Snape was almost certainly going to test Neville’s antidote out. She hoped that, with Warrington’s notes and Hermione beside him, Neville would do fine.  
Colin was even more excited than usual to see Siria. After he nearly fell going up the stairs, Siria offered him her hand, “Please!” She insisted. Colin led her to the classroom and stood in the hallway, holding her hand. Siria pressed her lips together, “Colin?”  
“Yeah, Siria?” He asked.  
“My hand.” She pointed.  
“Oh, right!” Colin laughed and let go of Siria’s hand. “Good luck!” She nodded in reply.  
[Book: B4, 302-303 the other champions are already there, with a photographer, Bagman tells Siria she’s here for the wand weighing, which is to make sure their wands are fully operational. Rita Skeeter is here for the Daily Prophet and wants to have a private word with Siria to “add a bit of color” & Bagman agrees, if Siria has no objection. Siria tries to protest, but Rita walks over her and grabs her arm]

Two, thick, cold hands grabbed onto Siria’s shoulders and jerked her back. She felt like she was just pulled into a wall. Rita Skeeter’s scarlet-taloned fingers were still deep into Siria’s arm, but Cassius Warrington had a better grip on more of Siria. He stood a good foot taller than Rita Skeeter and tilted his chin up, to look further down on her.  
“Potter-Black, did you want to go?” Warrington asked in a firm, cold voice that was directed to Rita Skeeter in a way that told them both he knew she didn’t want to. Siria shook her head and jerked her arm to wrench it out of Rita’s grasp.  
“I’ve already done a private interview.” Siria glared over her glasses at Rita, who pretended not to hear. Hermione had warned Siria that Rita Skeeter was a gossip. Ever since they got permission to have the Hogwarts Herald, Hermione had been ordering the Daily Prophet and three Muggle newspapers. She still thought Rita Skeeter was the worst.  
Rita pushed her jeweled spectacles up and glared narrowly at Siria with a tight smile, “Now, now. Don’t be like that. Us girls have to stick together.” Rita told her. Warrington kept his grip on Siria’s shoulders.  
“Us students have to stick together too.” Siria told Rita. “Besides, I did an exclusive interview for another paper.” Siria added. She clenched her fist until her nails were firmly in her palm.   
“And which paper would that be?” Rita asked as her smile widened. A slow, steady twitch appeared in the right corner of her mouth.  
“An honest one.” Warrington told Rita.  
“I hadn’t realized Houses were to close nowadays.” Rita jaw tightened as she tapped her fingers along her crocodile clutch. “How sweet.”  
[Book: B4, 306 Dumbledore arrives & Siria learns that Rita has called him “an obsolete dingbat” with old fashion ideas. Mr. Ollivander inspects the wands & Siria learns Fleur is a quarter Veela. All of the wands are in good condition. Dumbledore tries to excuse them, but Bagman wants them to take photos, which take a long time. Rita insists on separate shots of all the champions.]

“But that isn’t really practical,” Siria protested. “Newspaper space is far too valuable for you to include even half the photos you’ve taken and individual ones, besides,” Siria gestured to Fleur, “Fleur is so beautiful, people would simply stop at her photo and wouldn’t even read the article.”  
“Oh, ‘e ez too sweet!” Fleur told Siria. “Zen, we could do ze ladies an’ ze gentlemen.” Siria nodded. She didn’t trust Rita alone, but trusted herself to flatter Fleur enough to avoid being left alone.  
The moment photos were done, Warrington swept Siria under his arm and practically marched her out the door. “You okay, P.B.?” He asked when they were halfway down the hall. Siria nodded.  
“Thanks to you! I thought Rita Skeeter was going to eat me alive.” Siria confessed.  
“Watch out for her, okay?” He instructed as he let go. “Still practicing tonight?”  
“Of course! I’ve been practicing with Lumos and I get it every couple of tries.” Part of Siria felt funny for being proud to get one out of five silent spells cast correctly, but at least she was kind of getting it.  
“Keep up the good work,” Warrington patted her on the back.  
They walked into the Great Hall together and the sea of Slytherin students flashed their buttons to “Siria Pooper”. Siria clicked her tongue, but walked as normally as she could to the Gryffindor table on the opposite side of the Great Hall. Neville was alive and well, despite having his antidote tested. “I’ve got the notes in the dorm. I didn’t want to spill anything on them.” Neville told Siria.  
“It’s cool. Thanks for taking care of them.” She told him as Hermione dumped vegetables onto Siria’s plate. Siria looked up at Hermione “Why?”  
“Do you want to get taller or not?” Hermione asked.  
“Dunno if I believe all that ‘eat your veggies’ rubbish” Ron confessed as he layered another helping of brisket over his uneaten vegetables.  
“Yeah!” Siria agreed. “Ron’s taller than Fred and George, but he hardly eats any.”  
“But carrots are good for your eyes.” Neville told them while he took another bite of cooked carrots and corn.  
“That’s just a lie.” Siria told him. She’d eaten more than her fair share of carrots and couldn’t read the board without her glasses.  
“Siria,” Lavender giggled from a few people down. “Did you do something to Malfoy today?” They turned to look at the Slytherin table, where Malfoy was staring at Siria as if he could burn a hole through her head. He glared fiercer at her when she looked. “What do I do?” Siria asked from the corner of her mouth.  
“Glare until he looks away!” Ron told her.  
“No! Just look away,” Hermione argued.  
“Look away” Neville agreed with Hermione.  
“Don’t!” Lavender agreed with Ron.  
“Glare him down” Parvati insisted.  
“My eyes are watering” Siria strained to keep them open and glaring back at the cold silver eyes that were glaring at her.  
Hermione sighed and reached across Siria’s line of sight. Lavender, Parvati, Ron, and Siria looked to Hermione. “Why?” they asked. Hermione added another scoop of vegetables to Siria’s plate and sat down as if nothing happened. Siria groaned at the additional carrots, but ate them in silent surrender.


	19. The Hungarian Horntail

**The Hungarian Horntail**   


“Twenty Questions With the Champions!” read the first page of the Hogwarts Herald. Siria smirked at Hermione’s name under the interviews with Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum. Though Cedric had been there for Siria’s interview, he only credited Terry Boot. She read over the other champions’ answers to “How do you feel about being a champion?” and “What are you looking forward to most if you win?”  
The other three champions were proud, excited even to be champion. Warrington had been bold enough to say “When I win, I’ll have shown all three schools that Hogwarts and my House aren’t to be underestimated.” Siria fumbled her way through by saying she’d honestly just feel lucky to make it through the Tournament alive. She scratched the back of her ear before folding up the Herald to get breakfast and go down to Augusta Dungeon with Ron.  
When Ron and Siria arrived in Augusta Dungeon, it fell quiet. “What’s it?” Ron asked the room, but mostly Hermione. Hermione looked to Cedric before she looked to Ron and Siria. She picked up a Daily Prophet and handed it to Ron. Siria read over his shoulder for a moment before snatching the paper from Ron’s hands.  
Fleur Delacour’s glittering smile beamed up at Siria while her own photographed self made a poor attempt to look happy. Siria scanned through the article catching Rita calling Warrington “crude” and “disagreeable”, but listed Siria as a “shy sweetheart.” She clicked her tongue and continued through. At the mention of “Siria Potter has found love at Hogwarts” a gasp got caught in Siria’s throat, but Rita went onto say that Colin Creevey said Siria and Ron were rarely apart. Siria sighed with a mix of contempt and relief before crumbing the page.  
“I was reading!” Ron snapped and took the crumpled ball of newspaper to continue.  
“First of all, Warrington protected me from Rita, who probably wanted to write even worse lies about me! Secondly—” Siria stopped. Hermione and Cedric both had their hands across their throats in a silent “cut it out.” Siria sighed and straightened out. “We all know I like ‘pretty boys’,” and she elbowed Ron in the side with a large smirk on her face.  
As the other students went back to their studies or task of the next Herald, Siria sat down at the other circle of tables. Ron made a point to sit away from Siria and at the one table against a wall, where the Witch’s Maze was usually set up and played. Though Siria looked at a page of From Toadstools to Toads: A Compilation of Transfiguration Spells for Common Items, she didn’t actually see it. Siria was reading over the bits of the article she remembered. “It’s not as bad as it could be,” Siria told herself, “But she practically slandered Warrington because of me.”  
“You’re about to burn holes through your book,” Cedric said. He pulled out the chair beside Siria and sat. She sighed when she looked at him and supposed he was handsome. He was certainly charming and friendly. Rita Skeeter probably wouldn’t have been able to call Cedric “disagreeable.” Warrington was just quiet and took some warming up to. “Siria,” Cedric sighed with a soft smile, “now you’re looking at me like you’re going to burn a hole through.”  
“Sorry.” Siria murmured. She scratched the back of her neck and looked back at the page she had been staring at.  
“It’s okay to be nervous about the First Task.” Cedric told her. “Warrington told me that it’s a surprise to test your courage.”  
“I’m not nervous.” Siria lied. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever known what I was really facing before.” Hermione, Ron, and Siria had a small clue in their first year, when they learned which teachers protected the Sorcerer’s Stone, and Hermione had figured out what was in the Chamber of Secrets and that Tom Riddle had opened it. Siria looked to Hermione, who was drowning in parchment, questions from other students, and had dipped her sleeve in ink, but she wore the biggest smile.  
“I’m just kind of useless without Hermione and Ron.” Siria confessed. “If it was a group challenge, I’d have nothing to be nervous about.” Cedric patted Siria shoulder.  
“Siria, it’s good to be nervous. It keeps you sharp.” He looked at Siria like there was something more he wanted to say. “If you want or need help, you’ve people that will help.” Cedric exhaled in a slow, quiet breath and said nothing more on the matter. “What are you reading about?” Siria slid the book between them and they practiced Transfiguration together until Astoria, Colin, Dennis, and Astoria’s two Slytherin friends arrived.  
“Potter-Black has to practice for the Tournament,” Daphne scolded the younger students, her sister included, when they asked for help. Colin, however, didn’t want help, he was too busy telling Siria he didn’t mean things how Rita Skeeter had written them. It took her twenty minutes to convince him it wasn’t his fault before Warrington insisted she’d spent too much time not preparing already today.  
“It’s okay” Siria argued, “refreshing old material could come in handy.” She smiled. Warrington tapped the top of Siria’s wild, jet black hair with his knuckles and tsked at her. Astoria linked her arms with Colin’s and Dennis’s and dragged them to sit down at a desk. She winked to Siria as she passed.  
“You’ve shown your support for the Herald, we should go practice.” Warrington told her. “Alice and Selwyn are already there.” His emphasis on “go” and “there” told Siria that Warrington was talking about the Room of Requirement. She tried to flatten down the spot of her hair he’d rapped on.  
“It’s funny you call them ‘Alice and Selwyn’ when I say ‘Travers and Maddy’.” She smiled.  
“Are you heading to the library?” Cedric asked. Siria’s breath got frozen in her throat. Cedric had been kind, supportive, and honestly helpful to her through his whole ordeal; he knew she would not put her name in the Goblet of Fire and convinced others of it. Her almond shaped green eyes looked over the rim of her glasses, at Warrington. The Room of Requirement wasn’t just her space to practice and so she didn’t feel it right to invite Cedric without Warrington agreeing too.  
Warrington looked to Siria with a flat expression she couldn’t read, but it felt like when Oliver Wood had sized her up in her first year for the Quidditch team. He then looked to Cedric as if he was doing the same thing. Cedric straightened up, but kept the same charming and friendly smile on his face. Warrington looked back to Siria and sighed. “We’re not, but you’ll want to see it and help Potter-Black.” Warrington told him. An ear to ear smile broke over Siria’s face. She waved to Ron and pecked Hermione on the forehead before following Warrington out with Cedric.  
“Hi Barnabas!” Siria waved as Warrington paced to summon the room. “Looks like the trolls are gone today.” The miserable man in the portrait huffed. “Wish me luck!” Siria requested and followed after Cedric, into the Room of Requirement. Maddy was sitting on a pile of boulders and Travers was turning several golden retrievers into them. “What are you doing?” Siria cried when the door closed. She knelt down beside one of the dogs and began scratching behind its ears.  
“They were the boulders.” Warrington told her. “You’ll learn in sixth year.”  
“Excuse me?” Siria snapped and rose back to her full height, which was still much shorter than him. “If I can Transfigure rocks into dogs, I want to learn today!”  
“An army of dogs isn’t going to help you in the tasks” Warrington tsked.  
“Did the room come with the boulders or did you use an Enlargement Charm or...” Cedric scanned around the room again. He took in the low bookshelf, which doubled as a seat that went almost all around the room. Cedric knocked on the wooden dummy, looked up at the green lights, and then to the round table, which still had the stack of books Hermione had been using last time. He held out his fingers, as if to pull a chair out, in a space at the table. Just below his hand, a finely carved chair took form.  
“Tell me why you aren’t a Ravenclaw?” Travers asked as she and Maddy shrunk down the pile of boulders. Cedric smiled at her.  
“There’s no House I’d rather be in.” He told her. Siria’s heart sunk with guilt. Cedric said it with such conviction she felt he had never questioned it, but she regularly wondered if asking to be put in Gryffindor was the right choice. Slytherin liked those of ambition and she could feel the urge to win growing inside her. Even more frightening than the Triwizard Tournament, was the hunger to win. She told herself it wasn’t the Quidditch or House Cup, that people with more experience had died, “but, if I won…” Siria shook her head as if the idea of winning would leave her.

[Book: B4, 317-318 the first Hogsmeade visit of the year is on the Saturday before the first task]  
For their first Hogsmeade visit of the year, Siria Transfigured her hair red and flat, in hopes that she would be less recognizable without her usual wild, jet-black hair. As Chloe had taught Siria over summer, her lightning bolt scar had been covered with foundation to the point it wasn’t noticeable. Her glasses had been replaced with contacts, just for the day.  
“You look cute,” Hermione told Siria. They were wearing matching crocheted sweaters, but where Hermione’s was varied shades of light blue with the occasional stripe of white and looked like a midday sunny sky, Siria’s was dark blues with small white spots. “I’m surprised you agreed to this, honestly.” Siria confessed.  
“Given my choices of: no you, you under the Cloak, or Transfigured you…” Hermione shrugged and chuckled. “I don’t think Ron would have minded if he knew you were going like this.” She said as they grabbed their thicker coats and headed out.  
“I don’t care if he’d’ve minded. He should’ve just kept his head up and told them to shut it.” Siria tsked. Where the Hogwarts Herald and Sunday study group students had accepted the obvious fact that Ron and Siria weren’t dating, the “Siria Pooper” button wearers had harassed them with dramatic kissing sounds, whistles, and laughter. It had all been made worse with Rita Skeeter’s most recent article.  
Rita Skeeter had gotten wind about the rumors Siria started last year— that she had been rejected by Draco Malfoy. It had been the worst piece yet and burning Hermione’s copy of the Daily Prophet hadn’t erased it from Siria’s mind. She remembered it well.  
Rita Skeeter had gotten wind about the rumors Siria started last year— that she had been rejected by Draco Malfoy. It had been the worst piece yet and burning Hermione’s copy of the Daily Prophet hadn’t erased it from Siria’s mind. She remembered it well.

Love or Settling? A Relationship After Rejection   
The innocent first love of the shy, young Siria Potter, The Girl Who Lived, was in fact not her current boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, fellow Gryffindor fourth year. Your dedicated reporter, Rita Skeeter has gotten the scoop on our hero’s heart. Potter’s first love was in fact Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin fourth year. When Malfoy rescued Potter from a deadly fall last year in a flying accident, he not only saved her life, but won her heart. Potter spent the rest of the year trying to win his, but Malfoy, much like his father, believes there is more to love than fame and fortune.  


Rita Skeeter went on for three paragraphs about how “generous” and “kind” she found the Malfoy Family to be. She cited their donation history, historical family contributions, their lineage, and their “fine” home. When Rita finally looped back around, it was to explain how less qualified she found Ron to be for Siria. “While they may have a lot of heart, the Weasley Family simply can’t offer Potter what the Malfoys would, if only she could win Draco Malfoy over.”  


Siria Potter has put on a brave face with Ronald Weasley and is rarely seen without a smile, but you now know there is even more pain behind it than the loss of her parents. Unfortunately, Potter was unavailable for comment on her current relationship, but close friend Colin Creevey has confirmed the two are rarely apart.   


Rita Skeeter went on to accuse Hermione of trying to break Ron and Siria up, so she could date him. Hermione had received a mountain of hate mail each morning since the article’s release. Ron laughed it off until Tuesday, when he couldn’t walk to class near Siria without having parts of the article recited to him. Despite the hate mail she had received, Hermione acted like the article didn’t exist.  
“Thank goodness we brought our scarves.” Hermione beamed at Siria, as she tightened her own scarf. Siria shrugged and clenched her fists in her pockets. She was more thankful for the hand warmers Hermione had thought to bring. “Jess, if you’re going to be like this, we’re going back to school.” Hermione told her.  
“First of all, what and secondly, what?” Siria asked.  
“Well,” Hermione blushed and puffed out her cheeks, “doesn’t it give you away if I go around calling you something else?”  
“So you’re going with a nickname for my middle name?” Siria asked and shook her head. They weren’t walking to anywhere in particular today. Hermione had just suggested the break may do Siria some good and Sirius said he couldn’t visit until after dinner.  
“Fine, but if you get lost in a crowd, I’ll just shout something offensive.” Hermione tsked. Siria choked on her laugh.  
“Sure, ‘Mione. You do that.” A wide, smug grin covered her face. Hermione tsked again and jabbed Siria in the side. “Okay!” Siria cried in a laugh. “You’re going to blow my cover; I’m in disguise after all.” Siria winked.  
They walked in and out of shops, picking up the occasional sweet or book, until the afternoon, when a hand of red taloned nails took hold of Hermione’s shoulder. “If it isn’t the Prophet’s Gossiper,” Hermione said in a flat tone. She didn’t need to look because they could smell Rita Skeeter, who reeked of heavy, chemical “flower” that couldn’t complete cover up what smelt like jerky, but wasn’t quite that. Siria supposed it was the crocodile clutch and whatever Rita’s bag was made of.  
“And the Heart of the Herald.” Rita clicked her tongue as she glared over her glasses at Hermione. “It’s cute— you’re little art project.”  
“Certainly more reputable than a ‘paper’ that publishes your gossip.” Hermione knocked Rita’s hand from her shoulder and glared back. Siria rose her head and linked her arm with Hermione. Rita Skeeter was the last person she wanted to see. If nothing else, she was a close second to Malfoy who seemed to have made it his life’s mission to glare a hole through her head in the Great Hall, and had been the creator of the “Siria Pooper” buttons.  
She tightened her throat and raised the pitch of her voice as best she could. “‘Mione, we’ll be late.” Siria focused on Hermione and just hoped that the Transfigured hair, makeup, and contacts would be enough. “Of course!” Hermione agreed a little louder than she should have and it drew in the attention of a few people nearby.  
“There you are!” Parvati and Padma Patil called together and hurried over to Hermione and Siria. “Excuse us!” Parvati waved to Rita as she took Siria’s arm and started to led her away. Padma nodded and took Hermione’s arm to drag her from Rita as well. “Good day!” Padma smiled. The four took a turn into Honeydukes, which was packed. In the crowd of students, no one noticed a group of four girls become three.  
With Siria beneath the Cloak, the four girls headed to the Three Broomsticks. Hermione picked a table near the back and ordered a pitcher of butterbeer. “What did Rita want?” Padma asked. She leaned closer to Hermione. Parvati leaned in as well.  
“Trouble, I’d image,” Siria clicked her tongue under the Cloak.  
“She’s probably run out of students to squeezes lies out of. Did you see what she wrote about Siria last week?” Hermione groaned and put her face in her hands. Siria was pretty certain everyone had seen Rita’s article, or else heard it recited in passing.  
Hermione peaked through her fingers, to the seemingly empty seat beside her. “If someone would let me print a counter article…” Padma and Parvati looked to the invisible Siria as well. Ron also wanted Siria to print she didn’t like Malfoy and had lied last year. “There’s no point in saying I lied,” Siria told them. “All it’s going to do is convince people I really do like Malfoy, but am too ‘shy’.”  
[Book: B4, 321-323 Moody & Hagrid come in and Siria learns Moody can see under her Cloak. Hagrid tells Siria to meet him tonight.]

When Siria entered the common room, Colin and Dennis swept the buttons they’d stolen off the table and into their laps. As if he hadn’t appologized enough, Colin and Dennis Creevey had been working with Astoria Greengrass to change the buttons, but the buttons had only gotten worse. Astoria’s button was stuck on “Siria Pooper” and the only other change was that it now said “Siria Pooper Stinks”. Hermione was more annoyed about the buttons than Siria was. On more than once occasion, she had even offered to make ones for Siria, but Siria preferred Hermione’s talents be put to helping her stay alive.  
“If you’ve got the time to play around, your homework better be done.” Siria told the Creevey brothers. Fred chortled from a nearby table.  
“Excuse me,” George interrupted.  
“Miss Potter-Black” Fred grinned and stood up.  
“But you’re hardly one to talk.” George told her as he rose his feet.  
“Don’t you have a joke shop to work on?” Siria asked them. Fred slung his arm around Siria’s shoulders.  
“Funny you mention the shop,” Fred’s grin widened.  
“Your Pop is expecting us” George finished.  
“Of course he is.” Siria rolled her eyes, but her smile gave her away. Fred and George were always good company.  
The three met Sirius at the steps of the castle. Moonlight broke through the clouds in ribbons of soft, pale light. Hagrid’s cabin windows cast brighter light that warmed the air around them.  
[Book: B4, 323-324 Hagrid is dressed for his date]  
“What’s with—” George began, but Sirius stopped him.  
“Thanks again, Hagrid.” Sirius smiled and the four entered. Fred, George, and Sirius crowded around Hagrid’s table, so Sirius could help the twins with the issues they were having on some joke items. Hagrid sat on his bed and talked with Siria while Fang slobbered on her lap. “Now, if i’s the Forest yer gotta go in ter, then one o’ the centaurs may help yer, like last time.” Hagrid told her. He had been dropping facts about the Forbidden Forest and Great Lake since Siria’s name had been drawn.  
“Alright, gentlemen,” Sirius told the twins after an hour. “Anything else and you can write me.” Siria patted sleeping Fang’s head, but he didn’t budge.  
“Can’t you just you the fire again?” Fred asked.  
“It goes faster if we just talk.” George added.  
“Fire?” Siria asked. She remembered Amos Diggory’s burning face in the Weasley’s fire on the last day of summer. “Are you kidding me?” Siria asked. How many times had she seen Sirius stick his head in the fireplace? Of course they could have been talking through one.  
“Siria, think about it. If I start doing it, how many other parents are going to want to? It’ll clog up the common room.” Sirius tried to argue.  
“But you can talk with Fred and George!” Siria cried. Fred waved and George slipped out the door.  
“Sorry, Sirius!” They called as Hagrid’s door closed behind them.  
“You could have just stuck your face in the fire and told everyone I couldn’t’ve put my in the Goblet because of the Vow!” Siria slammed her fist on her lap and startled Fang awake and into a fury of barks. “Snape tried to accuse me of doing it! Do you know how stupid he would have looked?” Siria asked. Sirius sighed and looked to Hagrid before returning to Siria.  
“Now, don’t be mad…” He started. Siria could feel her blood already boiling. There had only been one time Sirius started with “don’t be mad” that she hadn’t been, and that only been because he was kidding and things were fine. “I expected that, if you really wanted to join, there wasn’t anything I could do to stop you from entering, so I may as well make it a little more difficult…” Sirius stifled a groan. “It wasn’t really an Unbreakable Vow.”  
“What!” Siria shouted. She thrust herself off the ground. “Are you kidding me?”  
“Siria, did yer bring yer Cloak?” Hagrid’s voice boomed through the cabin.  
“Hagrid!” Siria called in disbelief. “Really?”  
“I’s time.” Hagrid told her and tapped his watch. Siria glared at Sirius as she pulled her Invisibility Cloak from her bag. Once under the Cloak, she continued to glare and muttered “I can’t believe you right now.”  
“It would have been silly of me to show Hermione the real Unbreakable Vow— then you would have died the moment you entered.” Sirius argued.  
“I wouldn’t have entered!” Siria’s voice snapped. “I didn’t enter!”  
“You’re just more responsible than I thought.” Sirius sighed and fell to the floor as Snuffles, the behemoth dog.  
Fang, Snuffles, and Siria followed Hagrid to the Beauxbatons’ carriage.  
[Book: B4, 324-330 Siria learns the first task is facing dragons. She bumps into Karkaroff, so knows that Viktor Krum will know, and she hurries back to the common room]


	20. The First Task

**The First Task**   


With the exception of Ron and Hermione, the common room was empty. Ron had fallen asleep in an armchair beside the dying fire. Hermione was knelt down on the floor, working at a low table. She startled at the sight of Snuffles, who quickly became Sirius. Sirius’s brow was knitted with worry as he steered Siria to face him. “Hey, Siria. It’s going to be okay.” He tried to soothe her. Hermione hurried over and placed a hand over Sirius’s, on Siria’s shoulder. She looked from Siria’s pale, shocked face to Sirius.  
“What happened?” Hermione asked. Siria shuddered. Hermione and Sirius eased Siria to an armchair and woke Ron. Sirius told them about the dragons in the Forest. He leaned against the armrest of Siria’s chair and placed an arm around her.  
“Come now, Siria.” Sirius forced a smile, “You’ve fought a basilisk, what’s a dragon?”  
“I had a sword and Fawkes, and I wasn’t being judged…” Siria stared at her palms, which were spotted in red blotches from how tightly they’d been clenched. She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her knuckles to forehead.  
“It’ll be fine.” Siria nodded. “It’ll be fine.” She nodded again and rose to her feet. “We know what it is. Once Warrington knows, we can all work in the Room for something.” Siria looked to Hermione and Ron. “I understand if—” Hermione slung her arms around Siria and shuddered.  
“Of course we’re helping!” She snapped.  
“That’s what you were going to ask?” Ron threw his arm in the air and looked at her in disbelief. “You’re crazy if you think we’d stop.” Sirius patted Siria’s hair as Hermione continued to hug her.  
“Thank you.” He told them.  
“Potter-Black?” Madam Pomfrey asked through a crack in the Hospital Wing door. She clicked her tongue under a sad sigh as she opened the door. “The nightmares?” Siria shrugged. With what she had learned, Hermione and Sirius agreed it would be best for her to take a Sleeping Draught. Though Madam Pomfrey wasn’t happy to see Snuffles, she didn’t stop the large dog from following Siria in.  
Curtains had been hung around one of the Hospital Wing beds. Siria set herself up opposite it, on a bed cast in moonlight, beside a cracked window. Snuffles laid out over her feet and Madam Pomfrey left to collect the Draught. “I’ll be fine,” Siria said as she pet Snuffles. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated. She hoped that, if she repeated it enough, it would become true.  
Madam Pomfrey returned with the Sleeping Draught. “Your dog is getting a pass tonight, only because I don’t want you seeing him out this late, but you can’t bring him around anymore, alright?” Madam Pomfrey asked as she handed the goblet to Siria and sat down. “The girls in your dorm probably aren’t big fans of your little bear.” Siria forced a smile and Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips. “I mean it, Potter-Black.”  
“I know.” Siria whispered. “Sirius is just worried about me, with the Tournament, so he’s been sending stopping by and sending Snuffles when he can’t.” Madam Pomfrey’s expression softened, as it tended to do when Siria confessed actual worry or talked about Sirius. “He’s sent Kreacher too— could I have Kreacher stay with me?”  
“No.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head. She tucked Siria’s hair out of her face. “I’ll talk with Sirius and Headmaster Dumbledore.” Siria pouted. “We all want what’s best for you and I think it’s time we came to an agreement. Now, drink up.” Madam Pomfrey rose and extended her hand for the goblet. Siria knocked back the Draught then handed it to her.  
“I don’t like being alone. It’s…” Exhaustion washed over Siria. She fell back onto her pillow. “Bad…” she yawned. The room seemed to rock in her tired haze. Buzzing wings filled her ears like a white noise machine and the faint smell of something not quite floral danced over Siria. Moonlight kissed her heavy eyelids until she saw only darkness and sleep. With the Sleeping Draught in full effect, everything only made her more tired. Especially the warm comforting heat radiated from Snuffles, who stayed at the foot of her bed until early morning.   
Somewhere, a high voice argued with a croaky one. As Siria started to stir, she could hear them more. They were familiar enough that it made her smile. Something sounded like her name, but if her name had been mashed into her last names… or they were said together. A yawn escaped her and Siria realized she wasn’t asleep anymore. She stretched a hand out from under the comforter. It waved through the air before it found the bedside table then felt around for her glasses, bumping into a cardstock box. Siria grumbled nothing in particular as she sat up and put her glasses on. “Merlin—” Siria gasped and clutched her chest.  
“You scared Siria!” The high voice of the long nosed, Dobby the house elf told the greying Kreacher.  
“Kreacher did not scare Mistress— it was you” Kreacher croaked and jabbed Dobby in the chest “that scared Mistress.”  
“Morning?” Siria asked through a yawn. “Wha’s happening?” She looked around. It was so early that the Wing was mostly dark.  
“Kreacher has brought Mistress letters!” Kreacher stepped in front of Dobby. The two attempted to tug the other behind. They looked as if they were trying to compete in a three-legged race without their legs tied.  
“Dobby has come to visit his friend,” Dobby rested a hand on Siria’s bed to stop them from toppling to the ground.  
“Gosh!” Siria held her cheeks in her hands and smiled the brightest smile she could manage so early in the morning. “I’m so happy to see you two and that you’re both good friends.”  
“Kreacher is not—” Kreacher began as Dobby also tried to argue against it, but they stopped and stood side by side.  
Kreacher had brought Siria a letter from himself, Sirius, Remus, Chloe, and Dudley. Siria thanked him and placed the letters on her bedside. Dobby gave Siria a glass of water, which he stressed was the same glass he brought the last time he took care of her, and a pitcher of water. Kreacher bragged to Dobby about being taught to read and write, and how he was Siria’s penpal. Dobby boasted that he got to see Siria every third Sunday and some evenings. Siria blushed and wondered if having Dobby and Kreacher be so fond of her had been earned. She smiled with them as she sipped the water until Madam Pomfrey came out to check on her.  
“It wasn’t me.” Siria immediately told Madam Pomfrey at the stern expression on her face.  
“Oh, I know.” Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “Boys, I know you adore Potter-Black, but she no doubt has other things to attend to today.”  
“It’s okay,” Siria protested. Madam Pomfrey arched an eyebrow at Siria. “Though I suppose I do have a lot of letters to read and preparation for the first task.” Siria quickly added. Madam Pomfrey nodded at her. Siria collected her letters and said her goodbyes to Kreacher and Dobby.  
“Don’t forget that!” Madam Pomfrey pointed to the white ribbon tied, black cardstock box at Siria’s bedside. Siria looked to the box.  
“It isn’t mine.” She said.  
“The other patient left it for you.”  
“Oh?” Siria picked up the small box and nodded, “Thanks?”  
“Thank them, if they left a note. Good day, Potter-Black.” Madam Pomfrey smiled and it felt like the bittersweet smiles Sirius gave Siria whenever he left Hogwarts for the night.  
With the letters tucked under her arm, Siria left the Hospital Wing. She untied the silver white ribbon on the box and wrapped it loosely around her hand. It slid out like a matchbox. Siria stopped mid step on the stairs and looked at the contents. The box was made of four rows, two green and two white, of various candies. It smelt vaguely of apples and cinnamon and reminded Siria of something she couldn’t quite place, but she felt she had seen similar boxes before. She slid the box closed and made a turn away from Gryffindor Tower.  
Though Siria knew the sign read “Out of Order”, she couldn’t tell under the layer of dust and grime that caked the sign on the girl’s bathroom. She cracked the door open and peered inside, before stepping in. Moaning Myrtle was already awake. Myrtle floated above the sinks, sniffling quietly to herself. “Long time no see, Myrtle.” Siria offered the ghost a small smile.

“Thank goodness!” Lavender shouted the moment Siria opened the door. “Your psycho friend has been pacing the past half hour wondering if she could get you or not! Get out!” Lavender plopped back onto her bed and threw her pillow of her head. Siria mouthed to Hermione that she needed clothes. Hermione nodded and went to wait in the common room, though Siria wasn’t far behind her.  
They headed to the nearly empty Great Hall. Cedric Diggory and Terry Boot were already awake and eating. “Granger, Potter-Black!” Terry Boot waved them over to the Hufflepuff table, where he was sitting with Cedric. Siria sat down, but Hermione looked hesitant around. There were twenty some odd other students, all of which were minding their own business. When Hermione sat down, the three other Hufflepuff students at the table smiled and waved at her and Siria.  
“I’m glad you’re up.” Hermione told Cedric and Terry as she served Siria a scoop of chopped potatoes, broccoli, and diced carrots. Siria’s jaw dropped at the vegetables and she mouthed “Why?” but ate them with her eggs. “We’re so behind preparing for the first task and I was really hoping to leave the Herald early today, if that’s okay.”  
“Of course!” Cedric told her. “Did you want me there today too?”  
“I’d feel awful taking you from the Herald,” Hermione confessed.  
“Take him!” Terry Boot insisted. “We were just talking about how to help.”  
“Are you sure?” Hermione asked and looked at each of them.  
“Positive!” Cedric assured her. “If that’s alright with you, Siria.”  
“Please!” Siria felt like knowing that she was facing a dragon was better than not knowing, but she didn’t know anything about facing a dragon. She groaned and remembered she knew a few things: they breathe fire, the Hungarian Horntail would probably wreck her, and their hides are so thick it took a group of adult wizards to stun one. Siria was starting to wish they were fighting basilisks instead.  
Despite spending the day using the Room of Requirement to search for a way to fight a dragon, the group left for dinner, feeling just as unprepared as when they had entered. “We should keep looking after dinner,” Siria proposed.  
“No.” Warrington shot her down. “We’ll look at it with fresh eyes tomorrow, after dinner.”  
“Cassius is right.” Cedric agreed. “We could all use a break.”  
“And Siria, you hardly slept at all last night.” Hermione added. Siria shot Hermione a sideways glare as the Warrington, Cassius, Cedric, and Travers looked to Siria with concern.  
“Alright?” Warrington asked her.  
“I’m fine!” Siria told them through closed teeth. Maddy laughed and threw an arm around Siria.  
“Boy got your eye?” She teased. Siria forced a laugh and Maddy grinned “or girl?” She whispered and let Siria go. Siria felt her eyes widen and her heart stop.  
Silent green panic met brown worry as Siria looked to Hermione with her mute cry for help. “You know,” Hermione dragged while she searched for a new topic. “Siria… and Ron were talking…” Ron looked to Hermione then Siria with a look that read he wanted to help, but had no idea how. “About talking— with all of us, when we’re apart.” Hermione seemed to gather her thoughts and brought up how Ron complained that they didn’t have an easy way to get ahold of each other and Siria mentioned that it would be easier if electronics worked at Hogwarts. She talked about agreeing, how much she wished there was way, then asked if they had any ideas.  
Trapped in her own mind, Siria didn’t remember what she had for dinner, if she had dessert, or getting back to her dorm. Her heart thundered so loudly in her ears she couldn’t hear anything. Was she still looking at Travers like that? Had Maddy caught Siria staring? Siria put her face in her hands at the desk in her trunk as she played over any moment she could clearly recall staring at Maddy or Travers.  
Daphne and Warrington had pointed out Siria’s tells of getting awkward and her obvious staring, but Siria thought she had gotten over them. She pressed her eyes closed as she focused on replaying events. Her memory kept pausing on Maddy’s thighs, her hips, the haughty way she tilted her head to look down at something, and Siria paused. With how often Siria checked Maddy out, it was more of a surprise that Maddy hadn’t said something sooner. Siria placed her hands around her face and stared at her desk while she dreaded the next time she would see Maddy, until Hermione came down.  
“Brought your mail” Hermione told Siria as she placed the letters and box in the space between Siria’s elbows. “You okay?”  
“Maddy knows… Should I just come out? What if— what if I have to change dorms? Or the other girls hate me? Or—” Siria turned and looked to Hermione.  
“I don’t know.” Hermione confessed. “I’m sure there have been other…”  
“It’s okay to say ‘queer’. I’m queer, it’s an umbrella, but I only know one other queer person at Hogwarts and they could put us in a room together, except we’re totally different Houses and I feel like everyone’s going to assume we’re” Siria waved her hands wildly through the air, “you know.”  
“I just…” Hermione leaned against the desk. “Siria,” she placed her hand on Siria’s arm, “if you want to come out, then come out. If you don’t, try talking with Maddy tomorrow. Maddy may have started helping because she’s friends with Travers, but she isn’t there just to support her friend’s boyfriend anymore.”  
Siria shrugged and looked to her pile of letters with a sigh. “Tomorrow seems so far away,” she confessed.  
“Catch her between classes, okay?” Hermione suggested. Siria nodded. “Now,” Hermione gave Siria’s arm an affectionate tug, “get to those letters. I’ve seen how slow you reply.”  
“Thanks, ‘Mione.” Siria smiled. Hermione pecked Siria on the forehead and headed up to study at her desk.  
Sirius’s letter was an apology for leaving without saying goodbye, but the promise that he would order Kreacher to see Siria whenever he wanted. She smiled at the letter, half surprised Kreacher had not used it as an excuse to stay by her side all day. Kreacher’s letter was written with marker on paper. He had written “Kreacher loves U” and drawn a smiley face. Siria tacked the letter to her wall and smiled at it for a moment before she moved on.  
Remus had sent her a small stack of Moony & Padfoot surveys, with a letter explaining he hoped some of her friends would fill them out in exchange for a product based on their answers. He kept his request short and spent the rest of the parchment on advice with books, spells, and strategies for the Tournament. Remus ended his letter with “Siria, words cannot express how much we are here for you; if you need us or want us, just ask.” She rested her head on Remus’s letter before writing her reply, which she slipped a question, about how her fathers had reacted to him when he came out, into the letter.  
Chloe’s letter felt like a conversation with her. It jumped from if she needed any alterations to her dress, to if she would be needing more dress clothes. Then Siria paused as she came to a personal paragraph. “Don’t ever be afraid to talk with Sirius or Remus. They hardly knew me, but were the most supportive people I had. Despite being in a huge burst of growth at M & P, Sirius and Remus were with me every step of the way. Whether you come out or stay in the closet, we’re here for you, kiddo.”  
She went onto say that if Siria’s date needed clothes or they wanted to match, to let Chloe know. Chloe had included directions on how to measure people for clothes as a second sheet, but Siria felt like it slipped through her mind under the knowledge that Chloe, who was so vocal, kept things to herself until adulthood was daunting. She didn’t know how to reply, but knew that she didn’t want to live in the closet that long, waiting for someone else to out her.  
Dudley’s letter was just his weekly check in letter. Ever since Siria replied to his first letter, he had written each week. It was barely two paragraphs, but hers were about the same. As she couldn’t talk about anything magic, Siria mostly just talked about the school paper and if anything funny and noteworthy occurred. Dudley’s were similar, but about his were about boxing and his self restraint. He had done better this week and managed not to bully anyone, but confessed “it was probably because I still feel guilty for tripping Burnstone last week.”  
After she sealed up her replies, Siria looked to the sweet box Hermione had brought down with the letters. Though she slid the inside completely out, there wasn’t any sign of a letter or card. She had asked Sirius in her short reply if he had left the box, though she doubted it. Sirius may have left a Gryffindor colored candy box, but certainly not a Slytherin one.  
Her heart still hammered in her chest. She knew herself well enough to know there were only nightmares waiting if she tried to sleep. Siria closed the box and grabbed her Invisibility Cloak, Firebolt, and the Marauder's Map.  
With the Map and her Cloak, sneaking down to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom was a breeze. She pulled off the Cloak and Myrtle offered her a small smile. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming,” Myrtle sniffled.  
“There’ll be times I won’t.” Siria confessed. She folded the Cloak over her arm and walked to sinks. There, just as before, was the bronze tap with a serpent on it. She used the Snake Summoning Charm, which brought forth a small, green garden snake.  
“Open” Siria hissed in Parseltongue at the tap. It dropped down and revealed a slide. Myrtle and Siria followed the slide down and continued the path all the way to the Chamber of Secrets. The muck that coated the ground seemed to have only grown thicker and more putrid. It was as if something other than the basilisk was decaying. Siria stifled her urge to vomit as she laid the garden snake down.  
“If it smell so bad, why practice here?” Myrtle asked Siria.  
“I told you earlier, the place I practice is too clean and safe. I feel like…” Siria sighed because she felt a little embarrassed to confess it so simply, “With all of them there, I feel like I don’t need to be afraid. Even when I get frustrated or have a moment of weakness, I’m safe.” Siria raised her wand and looked past the tip, to where Tom Riddle had stood not even two full years ago. “Here… here I remember why I have to be brave.”

Siria stalked Maddy out of the Great Hall and knocked her own shoulder as hard as she could into Maddy’s. Maddy’s books dropped to the floor. She turned to no doubt rip the clumsy fool that knocked into her off, but clenched her teeth together at the sight of Siria. “So sorry,” Siria told Maddy and knelt to pick up Maddy’s books. Maddy waved for Travers and a Slytherin girl to go on ahead. Travers shrugged and shook her head, but walked on.  
The other girl, who Siria looked up at, waited. She was a mountain of a young woman. If the Slytherin Quidditch team ever had a girl on it, it would be this one. Not only was she tall, but she had muscles for days and looked like she could toss Siria across the corridor with one hand. Her black hair was undercut with the right side completely shaved. She had dark brown eyes and a smirk that confused Siria; it almost felt friendly. “Stop checking out my girlfriend,” Maddy whispered to Siria.  
“What?” Siria looked to Maddy as the blood pulled into her face. “I— she’s tall.”  
“Patricia Kenner,” the tall girl offered her hand to Maddy with a widened smirk. “Didn’t realize we were going public.” Kenner said, but didn’t seem to mind.  
“Sorry.” Siria murmured and fiddled with the strap of her bag. “I wasn’t trying to check you out,” she confessed while she looked at the ground. “I just, I wanted to make sure Maddy didn’t out me.” Maddy rolled her eyes back so far she rolled her head.  
“Potter-Black, Pat and I may be dating, but we’re in too.” Maddy told her.  
“And it’s not cool to out people,” Kenner added with a grin to Maddy.  
“Potter!” A voice called through the hall and made Siria jump. Professor Moody, of all people, had called her. Maddy gave Siria a shove for show before she left with Kenner. Siria squeezed her bag strap like it was going to trigger an eject switch somewhere and get her away. “Hey, Professor Moody.” Siria waved and hoped it didn’t look as awkward as she felt.  
[Book: B4 341-345 Moody and Siria meet in his office, where he explains how the Foe Glass works and suggests she use a Summoning Charm on her broom, since she’s good at Quidditch.]

Wednesday night, in frustration, Siria kicked one of the pillows she had been trying to summon to her. “I can’t!” She shouted into the Room of Requirement. Siria crouched down and screamed into her hands until she had no breath left. Warrington had decided on his strategy, which he made with Cedric and Travers. He would be transfiguring a boulder into a dog then turning himself invisible while the dog distracted the dragon.  
“Are you done?” Maddy called in a flat tone, from her seat beside Kenner. The two had been working with Hermione, Neville, and Ron on helping Siria with her Summoning Charm. Though Siria had gone from not being able to Summon, she could only Summon things from short distance and if there wasn’t any resistance. Kenner elbowed Maddy in the side and gestured to the still crouched Siria.  
“What if… what if the Firebolt wasn’t so far?” Ron asked. He looked to Hermione, “couldn’t we bring it, somehow?” Hermione pressed her knuckles to her lips and thought.  
“I suppose… if we were to… that just might work…” Hermione tilted her head from side to side as she seemed to bounce the idea off herself.  
“You could…” Kenner told Hermione, who looked to her and nodded.  
“But I’m just worried…” Hermione’s unfinished words seemed to make sense to Kenner.  
After a few minutes of Hermione and Patricia Kenner talking with incomplete sentences Siria stood up and screamed. “Will you please just stop!” Siria clawed her nails against her head. “I am going crazy!” Siria shouted while she dragged her nails down her face. “I’m going to die! Hermione— it’s a dragon. I should just lay on the ground and let it stomp on me!” A clap cut through the room when Hermione slapped Siria.  
Hermione clenched her lowered hand into a fist and kept the other raised, ready to slap Siria if she tried to fight. Siria didn’t. She held her arm, where Hermione had slapped her. “Patricia and I figured it out.” Hermione told Siria through her tightened jaw. She explained the plan while she massaged her hand. When Hermione was finished she snapped at Siria “So don’t you dare just lie down!”  
[Book: B4, 347-350 The days rushes by, Professor McGonagall takes Siria to the champions’ tent where Bagman explains they’re facing dragons and are to get the golden egg their dragon is guarding. Fleur draws first and draws the Welsh Green.]

“Potter” Bagman held the bag out to Siria.  
“Black” Siria murmured. She stuck her hand into the bag and wondered how unlucky she would have to be to draw the Hungarian Horntail, until she withdrew it. Her heart sank. Siria nodded at Bagman. “You’re fourth champion in a Tournament for three in unlucky” Siria told herself, “of course you get the Horntail.”  
[Book: B4, 350-352 Krum & Warrington draw, Bagman tries to offer Siria help, but she declines. Warrington goes first, then Fleur, then Krum] 

Her stomach was so twisted that Siria was convinced when she opened her mouth to cast anything, she was going to vomit instead. She took to pacing and playing the plan over in head. The tiny Horntail fluttered in her grasp. “If only I could talk you into fighting the big one for me,” Siria choked out a laugh. “Though, if I spoken dragon, I could probably explain I want the gold egg and be fine.” She placed the dragon down and looked at her reflection.  
Parvati had wrestled Siria’s hair into two, tight french braids that met at the base of Siria’s neck. The white ribbon from the sweets box was laced between the two braids and tied to a scrunchy. She tilted her head back to put in eyedrops while she still could. Siria blinked as her eyes adjusted to the sudden shift of fluid. After wearing contacts twice, she wasn’t as excited as she had been Sirius had given them to her; she was thankful she didn’t need to worry about her glasses breaking, but was worried her contacts would dry out too quickly.  
Time felt like it had been on fast forward, but, the moment the whistle sounded, Siria felt like it paused. Krum had finished and her time was now. She closed her eyes and steadied her hand on her wand. “You’ve defeated Tom Riddle and a basilisk,” Siria reminded herself, “what’s a dragon?”  
[Book: B4, 353 Siria enters the enclosure, where the Horntail is. She can’t make out the crowd’s noise, but knows what she has to do.]  
As if she were dueling, Siria raised her wand and summoned a breath that seemed to mute the rest of the world. She pointed before her “Serpensortia!” A light brown viper with a dark brown diamond pattern appeared in the enclosure. She drew the not quiet circle and “Engorgio!” Siria enlarged the viper as much as she could. It was almost the size of the basilisk when she finished.  
“Please,” Siria pleaded with the giant viper, “Distract the dragon, just for a little bit!” Its large, almost flat, vertical head nodded. The viper flattened out and slithered toward the Horntail. Siria rubbed her arm as if it would knock the nerves out of her then she pointed her wand at the sky. “Accio Firebolt!”  
Her hand trembled on her wand as she waited. The snake had neared the Horntail, which was spewing flames. “Please” Siria asked through gritted teeth, “please, please, please!” She felt the anxiety inside her boiling. Something whooshed and Siria called “Revelio!” as her Firebolt appeared before her.  
There was more noise than there had been, but Siria knew she couldn’t focus on the noise (B4, 354). It didn’t matter what Bagman or anyone else was shouting, she needed to get the egg before the dragon remembered she was there too. Siria sped around the rim of the enclosure. Her viper may have been roughly size of a basilisk, but it wasn’t equipped like one. The Horntail had stopped it from advancing and limited it to hissing from distance.  
“Think…” Siria told herself. The Snake Summoning Charm had been perfect. She practiced it for months as a second year and felt like no amount of stress could stop her from casting it. Lumos was the only other spell she had used as much and she couldn’t blind the dragon with it. Siria scanned over the ocean of faces that she couldn’t distinguish. Where was Sirius? He had to be there. Hermione had given him the Firebolt. He and Remus were there. It felt as if the tip of a wand had been lit.  
“Expecto Patronum!” Siria bellowed. The white and blue Patronus charged from Siria’s wand and toward the dragon. She flew to the viper and shrunk it down until it was hardly larger than a normal viper. “Please, get the egg!” Siria called and launched herself toward the dragon. Though she wasn’t convinced she wanted its attention, Siria got it as her Patronus dissipated under the dragon’s flames.  
The dragon seemed to forget about the snake as it watched Siria circle over its head. She snapped down into a short dive, which caused the Horntail to release a jet of fire. Siria whisked out of the way and returned to circling. Dive after dive, just like Oliver Wood had her practice, Siria dropped down and yanked or jerked the broom once the dragon’s throat swelled up with flame.   
Each breath felt like Siria was so thick and hot it felt like breathing in stew, rather than air. She bobbed down, caused the Horntail to shoot fire, and rocketed up higher than before. Quicker than she anticipated, the viper circled behind the dragon. When the Horntail trashed her tail into the rocks, the viper recoiled. Siria winced as the realization hit her: she was being too safe. She dove directly at the Horntail when it opened its mouth, she jerked her broom out. Siria was even with the Horntail, but just out of reach from her flames.  
The Horntail blew jet after jet of fire at Siria. It inched from the nest of eggs, toward her. Siria looped close, but would always pull back the moment the Horntail’s mouth opened. From the odd bulge in it, viper had clearly swallowed the egg, which was heavier than anticipated. When the Horntail’s tail thrashed again, Siria shot forward. She tried to arch herself around the jet of flame, but felt the burning sensation at her side. Siria swept the viper from the ground and turned as sharply as she could away before rolling off Firebolt and drenching herself with “Aguamenti!”  
[Book: B4, 356-358 McGonagall, Moody, and Hagrid bring Siria out of the enclosure and to Madam Pomfrey, who is really upset about the dragons, as she should be. Hermione, Ron, Sirius and Remus arrive]

“Thank Merlin!” Sirius announced and hugged Siria, who was stroking the viper. “I could do without you getting burned, but burnt and alive is… well, it’s good.” He kissed the top of her head.  
“That was a nice Patronus” Remus smiled a Siria.  
“If only it did more” Ron huffed and explained what the others had done (B4, 359).  
“We’ll see you soon.” Sirius promised.  
“You’re leaving?” Siria asked.  
“Parents usually only show up for the final task,” Sirius explained. Siria groaned.  
“Since when do you care what’s ‘usual’?” She argued, but he and Remus left before the viper spat the egg into her lap.  
“Gross.” Ron told Siria as she picked up the slime covered egg.  
Ron took the Firebolt while Siria carried the egg and the viper followed behind them and Hermione.  
[Book: B4, 360-362 Siria, like Harry, is tied for first with Krum. I can’t see Karkaroff, who goes last, giving her a better score. If anything, if Madame Maxime were to give Siria a 9, rather than 8, I’m pretty sure Karkaroff would give her a 3. Bagman tells them they have until February to figure out the clue in their egg and prepare for the second task. Rita Skeeter tries to get a word from them, but is blown off]


	21. The Unexpected Task

**The Unexpected Task**   


[Book: B4, 364-368; 371-372; 386-388 The Gryffindors celebrate Siria’s victory, which includes opening the golden egg and shutting it because it sounds terrible. Neville turns into a canary because of the Canary Creams made by Fred & George. December comes around and it’s rather cold. Professor Trelawney tells them that she saw Death hanging over Hogwarts.]

Hermione took one look at the Sunday Daily Prophet and immediately crumpled it into her bag. Ron and Siria raised an eyebrow in question, which caused Hermione to laugh nervously. Hermione swept some eggs into her mouth “I’s nofin’!”  
“Remind me to never need you to lie for me,” said Siria and she reached out for the paper. Hermione shook her head and squished her bag into her lap.  
“What did Rita Skeeter write this time?” Ron rolled his eyes and looked to Siria. “At this rate, you’ll have to get a real boyfriend, so she backs off.” Siria forced a laugh and nudged Hermione’s side.  
“Seriously,” Siria tsked at Hermione. “I’m just going to hear it if you don’t tell me.” There were already more glares from the Slytherin Table than usual. As if it brought Hermione physical pain to withdraw the newspaper, she handed it to Siria. Unsurprisingly, there was a picture of Siria’s enlarged viper and the dragon, with Siria herself flying out of frame in the background. Rita Skeeter had captioned it “Siria Potter-Parselmouth”; Siria shook her head at the title, but read through with Ron.  
“Everyone knows that!” Ron rolled his eyes at the facts Rita had presented. Siria bit her nail as she continued. Rita Skeeter told everyone about her Parselmouth stunt in the first task then brought up Salazar Slytherin. Just as there was no way for Siria to prove she wasn’t Slytherin’s ancestral granddaughter, there was no way for Rita to prove it. Parseltongue, ambitious and cunning, Siria was almost the Slytherin poster child— almost. She crumpled the paper again and handed it to Hermione. “Ron’s right. Isn’t anything we don’t know.” Siria nodded. 

[Professor McGonagall tells them about the Yule Ball and that Siria needs to have a dance partner.]  
“Will you tell me why again, when we have the Room, you insist on coming to the library?” Siria asked as she held some of the books Hermione had selected.  
“You didn’t have to come.” Hermione reminded her. Siria arched her eyebrow and looked around the library. It seemed no matter where they went, someone was lurking to ask one of them to the Yule Ball.  
“Right,” Siria shook her head. “Honestly, even with this detour, I’ll probably make it the Tower faster than if I tried to go alone.” The act of having anyone with Siria seemed to drastically decrease how often she was asked to the Ball. After Rita Skeeter’s article, Siria expected people to avoid her for a few weeks, but no one seemed bothered. If anything, Siria felt that people thought her possible relation to Salazar Slytherin was a selling point.  
“I don’t know why you don’t just agree to someone.” Hermione sighed softly as she continued to scan the books.  
“I’m not going with a complete stranger that thinks they know me, because of what they’ve read or wants to go because of my name.”  
“Have you considered they think you’re cute?” Hermione asked. Siria wrinkled her nose at the thought.  
Viktor Krum slipped into the library and was lurking behind a nearby shelf. Hermione saw him and sighed. She handed Siria another book. “Would you go look for anything useful in languages?” Hermione asked her.  
“And I’ll know it’s useful because…?” Siria tilted her head down. Hermione clicked her tongue.  
“Would you rather look at Charm books?” Hermione asked. She shot a glance to the section, where Krum was. Siria shrugged, but hauled the books over to the Foreign Language section.  
Logogram and Rune covered spines looked back at Siria. She scanned over them and knelt down, as if being more level with the lower covers would help her. As if her gut could tell her, Siria closed her eyes and trailed a finger over the top of the books nearest to her. They felt the same and had a similar musty smell to them. She blindly grabbed a few and hoped the Room of Requirement would be more helpful tonight. It seemed like when they knew what they wanted or needed, the room could provided it, but if they only had a vague understanding, the room didn’t even know how to help.  
“Wouldn’t count on my luck if I were you, Potter.” The drawling voice of Draco Malfoy smirked. Siria glared intently at the spines of the books, as if she could read them by squinting.  
“Black.” She hissed under her breath. Given that it was just her luck to end up in the Triwizard Tournament, Siria wouldn’t bet on her luck either. Though, she mused, she was doing fine so far.  
“From what I hear, Potter” Malfoy emphasized her surname, which irritated Siria more, “you can’t even get a date.” He chuckled at his own jab. Siria peered through the stacks, to Hermione, to see if they could leave yet. Hermione was talking with Krum and, Siria rubbed her eyes and looked again, she was blushing.  
“You offering?” Siria asked absently as she stood to see Hermione better. Hermione tried to tuck a strand of bushy hair behind her ear, but it popped back almost instantly.  
“Maybe, if you asked nicely.” Malfoy sneered at her. Siria’s jaw fell open. Hermione nodded.  
“Are you kidding me?” Siria pressed her hand to her mouth. Krum smiled and Siria, who went to cheer, dropped the stack of books she was carrying.  
Madam Pince practically growled at Siria. “Sorry.” Siria whispered as she collected the books. “See you, Malfoy.” She waved and, books in hand, approached Hermione and Krum. Though Krum nodded at Siria when she approached, he left without a word to her. Siria nudged Hermione in the side. “Did I or did I not just see Viktor Krum ask you to the Yule Ball?” Siria asked.  
“Shut it.” Hermione murmured. “What did Malfoy want? Just trash talk?”  
“Does he offer any other kind?” Siria rolled her eyes. She glanced over to Malfoy. He looked more pink than pale. “Is it wrong to hope he’s getting sick?”

At Friday night Quidditch practice with the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams, Cedric and Siria were circling over the field. Though snow covered the grounds, there was something about Quidditch that got them all out of the castle. Even Warrington would occasionally stop by. Cho Chang eased her way over to Cedric and Siria. The cold wind had highlighted the blush in cheeks, but her hair managed to stay tightly back in her high ponytail.  
“Chatting strategies?” Cho asked them. She looked from Cedric to Siria then paused on Cedric. “I’m jealous.” Cho laughed. Her eyes wandered down and Siria felt a blush hit her own face.  
“Urgh!” Siria groaned. “Actually, I was about to do some drills. I’m so stiff right now!” Siria flattened herself on her broom and let her arms dangle down. “You don’t mind, do you, Cho?”  
“Not at all.” A thin, shy smile broke over Cho’s face. She gave Siria a small nod. Siria grinned and punched Cedric in the arm.  
“Siria—” He began, but she was already diving down.  
Siria snuck to the stands, where she hovered beside Hermione and Neville. Hermione shook her head. “You know Cedric’s going to go with her now, right?” Hermione asked. Siria shrugged.  
“I know, I know. He’s charming and all that, but…” Siria looked across the field. She and Ron were the only people there without dates now. “I’m going to end up going with Ron, aren’t I?”  
“Lots of people already think you’re dating.” Neville told her.  
“Ha!” Hermione and Siria laughed.  
“That’s why he doesn’t want to go.” Siria rolled her eyes.  
“But, you’ve gotten asked,” Neville said.  
“Yeah…” Siria sighed.  
Until Hogwarts, Siria had been a crack on the sidewalk at school. There was an extent to which she didn’t stick out anymore, until the Tournament. Of course the new students each year would point and gawk, but going to school with the Girl Who Lived usually lost its charm after the first month. Colin and Dennis had been two of the only people she knew of that were still impressed by “Siria Potter”.  
“Shame there isn’t someone you’re comfortable with.” Hermione sighed. Siria dipped her broom and hugged Hermione.  
“‘Mione, you’re a genius and I love you!” Siria flew back to Cedric and Cho. Cho turned away when Siria neared them. “I gotta go!” Siria shouted and, without changing, hurried to the castle. She checked her watch and ran to the library. Siria cleared her throat then snuck through the door. There were more people than usual so late into the night and just before break.  
Her heart thundered in her ears as she crept along the wall, to the back corner of the library. Astoria, Colin, and Dennis were playing with some of Fred and George’s fake wands. Siria pressed her back to the bookshelf and tried to steady her breaths. It was so much warmer in the library that the air burned differently than the piercing ice outside. She pressed her hand to her neck, but her pulse still felt like it would jump out of her chest. Siria nodded.  
“What are you doing?” The cool voice of Daphne Greengrass chuckled. Siria flinched and tried to pass it as an attempt to flatten her hair. Daphne raised an eyebrow at her. “You okay, Potter-Black?”  
“DoyouhaveaYuleBalldate?” Siria spat out. She smacked her forehead then massaged the spot.  
“I don’t.” Daphne told her. “Why, you asking?” Siria could hear the smirk in Daphne’s voice and her nerves made her grin.  
“I mean, I’m not not-asking.” Siria ran her fingers over her bangs, which frayed out as if she hadn’t even touched them.  
“I’m gay, not desperate.”  
“Okay. I’m bi, but not into you like that.” Siria scratched the back of her neck. When Daphne arched an eyebrow, Siria dropped her arm to her side and clenched her Quidditch robes.  
Daphne sighed and looked to the table where Astoria, Colin, and Dennis were playing around. Siria looked at the ground and half hoped it would swallow her. Hogwarts had trick staircases, hidden doors, and magic rooms; there had to be a piece of floor in the castle that could swallow you if you wished hard enough. Daphne clicked her tongue and looked to Siria.  
“This riff-raff bothering you?” Malfoy asked. He was flanked, unlike last time, by Crabbe and Goyle. Siria tapped the back of her head against the bookshelf she was leaning on. “Honestly, Potter. You can’t even change?” Malfoy asked.  
“Potter-Black was just asking a question.” Daphne crossed her arms as she focused on Siria, who tried not to smirk. “Girl to girl.” Daphne looked over her shoulder at Malfoy. “So I’m fine.” Malfoy cocked his head. He looked over Daphne’s shoulder to Siria. His cold silver eyes met her glaring green. Siria gritted her teeth.  
“Hear you still don’t have a date.” Malfoy sneered. “Maybe—”  
“Actually,” Daphne’s cool voice cut under Malfoy’s, “Potter-Black was just asking me about her date.” Siria pressed her hand beneath her nose to hide her smile. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped that Daphne meant what Siria thought.  
“So you know him, Greengrass?” Malfoy arched an eyebrow at her.  
“Greengrass knows my date very well.” Siria smirked. “And I kind of know hers.”  
“Maybe you should worry about yourself?” Daphne suggested. “Unless you’re taking Crabbe and Goyle?” Crabbe and Goyle looked to each other then to Malfoy.  
“Thanks for the suggestion, Greengrass.” He shot Siria another glare. “Try not to embarrass your date.” Malfoy sneered before he left with Crabbe and Goyle.  
“So, is that an actual yes?” Siria asked as she stepped forward.   
“Yes.” Daphne sighed. “But as friends! You’re not my type— wipe that grin off your face.” Siria, who couldn’t stop herself from grinning, covered her mouth. “And if you try to kiss me, I’ll hex you.”  
“Absolutely!” Siria nodded. Daphne looked to Astoria, Colin, and Dennis. The three had stopped playing to watch when Malfoy came over with Crabbe and Goyle. “I can get them in.” Siria said without thinking.  
“Sure, Potter-Black.” Daphne rolled her eyes.  
“Oh, it’s on now.”

In the Room of Requirement, which had been cleaned up after their practice, Hermione handed Siria something small. On a small button, over a quartered background of red, green, yellow and blue were the bold, black scripted letters of “I support C.W.” Siria opened her mouth to reply when the background and writing, unprompted, changed. While it kept “I support”, “C.W.” had been replaced with “S.P.B.” A stripe of pink and one of blue took the place of the other colors, with a thin stripe of purple between them. Siria bit her lip and stroked the surface of the button. Though her voice was hardly a whisper, it cut through the silence of the room “That’s my flag.” Siria choked as she lifted her head to look at them. “That’s my flag.”  
Despite Siria’s protests, Cedric, Hermione, and Patricia had made new buttons. “But...” Neville paused until he realized he had been heard and felt the need to ask his question. “Why does Siria get a flag and Warrington gets the Hogwarts Crest colors?” Neville asked. Maddy smacked her own forehead.  
“It’s her sexuality’s flag, Longbottom— she’s bi!” Maddy pointed to Siria as if she were holding a sign saying as much. “We’re part of the in crowd,” Maddy gestured around to the other people in the room, “so we know and can support her when she’s out.”  
“Sorry.” Neville murmured.  
“No.” Maddy huffed, as she pinned a button to her robes. “I’m sorry. It’s a fair question…” Maddy crossed her arms and looked to Siria.  
“I love them.” Siria smiled at the room as she pinned the button to her jacket. “Thank you,” Siria opened her arms and Hermione rushed in to hug her. Over Hermione’s shoulder Siria smiled to Cedric and Patricia. Travers, Warrington, and Neville were already wearing their buttons. Since he received it, Ron had stared silently as his.  
“So, what?” Ron asked Siria when she sat down beside him. “You like to snog girls or something?”  
“I haven’t snogged one yet, but I certainly intend to.” Siria replied. She pressed her lips together. “If I’d known they were doing them, I would’ve told you.”  
“But Hermione and Cedric knew?” Ron asked. Siria fiddled with a button on her jacket.  
“Yeah. I— I slipped up around Cedric. You don’t seem upset about Maddy and Patricia knowing.” Siria noted.  
“Well, they’re gay too. Isn’t it that they just know?” Ron asked. A sharp, short laugh escaped Siria.  
“Oh, yeah” Siria said sarcastically. “We can sense each other out like magnets— no. Honestly Ron.” She clicked her tongue. “If you hadn’t spat food at me the last time it was brought up, I might have told you sooner.” Siria snapped.  
“So it’s my fault?” Ron shouted.  
Siria rose to her feet and Ron did the same. He had continued to grow, whereas she hadn’t. Before summer, Siria was taller than Malfoy and barely shorter than Ron. Malfoy had grown taller, but Ron seemed intent on growing until he was as tall as Hagrid. He was barely shorter than Cedric, despite being three years younger. It usually didn’t bother Siria, until she realized how much she had to look up at him to glare.  
“Fine!” Ron barked and threw his hands up in anger.  
“Fine!” Siria shouted back. Her fists were clenched at her sides.  
“Not fine!” Hermione told them. Ron didn’t listen and stormed toward the door.  
“Be like that!” Siria called after him. Hermione pressed her face in her hands and muffled a shout.  
“Just go after him!” Hermione snapped.  
“He’s just throwing a tantrum!” Siria told her.  
“Siria” Hermione’s harsh tone dug into Siria. She threw her head back. Siria knew she didn’t want to fight with Ron.  
“Fine!” Siria clicked her tongue and chased after him.  
Ron had barely stepped through the portrait hole when Siria caught him by the arm. “So what?” She gasped as she stepped into the common room. “Since I like girls too, you don’t want to be my friend?” Ron jerked his arm away.  
“Can’t you just leave me something?” Ron shouted at her.  
“Leave you what?”  
“Anything! Do you know how many guys asked you out? If there’s another stupid Tournament or dance and you’re out, who’ll be left for me to ask?” Ron turned away. Siria reached out to pat his shoulder, but retracted her hand.  
“Look, Ron, if you want help getting a date, I can get you one.” Siria told him. “And I’m not bi to hog the dating pool.”  
“I know.” Ron threw his arms up in surrender. “I know you aren’t. I just… whatever. It’s fine.” He said. Ron dug the button out of his robe pocket and pinned it to his shirt. “We’re cool.”  
“Yeah?” Siria nodded and extended her clenched fist, which he knocked with his own. “Let’s get you date. You know, I think I know someone.”  
“I’m not taking Astoria.” Ron replied.  
“No. I got her a date, but I’m pretty sure Mandy, Fay’s friend, has a friend without a date. The pale haired girl.” Siria looked to the ceiling as she tried to remember the girl’s name.  
“Loony Luna?” Ron cried.


	22. The Clue

**The Clue**   


Dumbledore’s Favorite?  
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,  
has had the privilege of overseeing the care of students for half a century.  
He has done many questionable things, such as defending Newton Scamander,   
but had distanced himself enough to not have a favorite, until now.  
It’s no wonder that the straw to break the Thestral’s back is our very own Girl Who Lived.  
We have learned our suspicions are true and Potter is not the believed sweetheart,  
but an overly ambitious, troubled rule breaker.  
Potter has been caught out of bed in the middle of the night,   
traveled down forbidden corridors, and may have slipped her way   
into the Triwizard Tournament. Her rule breaking is no doubt from her ambitious blood.  


“STOP!” Siria cried and put her hands over her ears. Hermione tilted the paper down and looked to Siria.  
“The Slytherins and your non-supporters are eating this up like Honeydukes fudge— not to mention the people that don’t have access to the Herald.” Hermione argued. Siria groaned and pushed her plate away, so she could put her head down.  
“Can’t she find someone else to gossip about?” Siria mumbled at the table. People were still talking about the Parselmouth article.  
“Oh,” Hermione winced. “You’re going to want to read this.” Her tone told Siria that she did in fact not want to read it.  
“Just give her the ‘Mione notes version,” Ron suggested. He looked at Siria, who had her face on the table and was stifling a scream in her hands. Hermione sighed at them.  
“Alright, but I warned you…” Hermione scanned back over the paragraph she was reading. “She knows Sirius visits you, but thinks he only visits every weekend and she knows Snuffles stays in the Hospital Wing with you.”  
“How?” Siria asked and snatched the paper for the line. “ ‘Despite the Hospital Wing caretaker’s’— excuse you, Rita, Madam Pomfrey is a certified Healer— ‘many protests, Mr. Black’s dog often visits Potter in her many trips to the Wing due to her reckless fist fighting and night terrors…’.” Siria shoved the paper back to Hermione. “I hate her, Hermione. I hate her.” Siri said into her hands as she pressed them to her face. “Nightmares aren’t night terrors, Madam Pomfrey is a Healer, and I would not ever want to sign up for this stupid, crazy Tournament.”  
“Oh, no.” Hermione uttered and pulled the paper to her face. Ron leaned around Siria to see try and peak at what Hermione had read. She handed him the paper and Ron growled. “Don’t the Malfoys have anything better to do than talk trash?” He asked. Siria grunted. “His dad’s just saying that, when he got the Board of Governors to suspend Dumbledore, it was because he suspected Dumbledore was the type to pick favorites and the Malfoy never liked him much.”  
“Even if Dumbledore had a favorite, wouldn’t someone smart, like Hermione or Cedric be better?” Siria asked.  
“Siria, you’re plenty smart.” Hermione argued.  
“There’s plenty smart, and there’s you smart, Hermione.” said Ron. He swept some more bacon onto his plate. “Dumbledore doesn’t really seem like the type to pick favorites, but I suppose everyone’s got one.”  
Chloe had outdone herself, at least as far as Hermione and Siria were concerned. When Siria extended Chloe and Sirius’s offer to make clothes to anyone that needed them for the Yule Ball at the Sunday study group before break, she expected it would be maybe five people. She had not expected ten requests, let alone the thirty-three she’d gotten. Chloe didn’t miss a beat though and had already filled ten requests by Friday.  
“Can’t be all that hard then, making clothes.” Ron said over dinner Friday evening. Lavender gasped.  
“Are you mad?” She asked. “Maybe if the dresses looked like potato sacks, but they’re beautiful.” Lavender sighed and put her head in her hand. “I almost wish my parents hadn’t bought me such a nice one. Siria, can you please have my dress for the next ball made?”  
“If Chloe’s still willing to let me after all these, yeah.” Siria chuckled dryly. She felt guilty sending in the list of people and their measurements. Chloe replied by sending a disposable camera, which Siria used to take a picture of each of the requesters.  
“Given that Padma and I are taking your brothers, you owe us each a dress.” Parvati told Siria.  
“Not my brothers, but I offered to pay you ten Galleons.” Siria reminded her.  
“Which I generously declined out of friendship and in exchange for knowing who your date is.” Parvati said. Siria shrugged with a smirk. “I’m still cross you’re making me wait until the day of, so I’ll take a dress too.”  
“You’d’ve gotten a dress either way, honestly.” Siria scanned across the Great Hall.  
Daphne, who was wearing her “I Support C.W./S.P.B.” button, sat with her usual crowd at the Slytherin table. She was sandwiched between Astoria and Millicent Bulstrode. Millicent was wearing a button as well, but Pansy Parkinson, was wearing a “Siria Pooper” button still. She, Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy were some of the only students in the school still wearing them. Most of the school had switched to wearing the buttons Cedric, Hermione, and Patricia had made or weren’t wearing either. Daphne and Pansy Parkinson hadn’t spoken since Parkinson agreed to go to the Yule Ball with Malfoy. Neither acted like they cared, but Parkinson made a point to drape herself around Malfoy’s shoulders like a shawl, and Daphne kept herself turned toward Astoria.  
“If you keep staring, she’ll notice.” Hermione whispered. Siria blushed and looked down at her plate as Hermione loaded on another scoop of broccoli slaw.  
“He’s obviously not a Gryffindor.” Lavender told Parvati.  
“I’m honestly surprised Cho Chang is going with Cedric.” Parvati confessed. “I thought you’d go with him.”  
“Why?” Siria asked.  
“He’s so handsome!” Lavender sighed dreamily at Cedric.  
“And he’s smart too.” Parvati added. “Not to mention charming.” She giggled with Lavender.   
“Oh, is it Terry Boot?” Parvati and Lavender looked to the Ravenclaw table and Siria stared pointedly at her plate. She rolled her final piece of broccoli around and shook her head. “That’s a shame. He’s really quite nice.” Parvati noted. “Poor Hannah Abbott dropped an extra rat tail into her Potion and he helped her fix it.”  
“Is it Ernie MacMillan?” Lavender asked. “He’s a little haughty, but his eyes are almost as pretty as yours.” Siria pressed her lips together. Since Lavender and Parvati had learned Siria got a date, they had spent dinner guessing the same few people, as if Siria would finally slip up.  
“You know, you’ve never guess a Slytherin.” Ron told them. Siria inhaled her final piece of broccoli in shock. Seamus hacked out a laugh loud enough that it covered Siria’s choking.  
“Like that Malfoy git?” Dean Thomas cried.  
“Not Malfoy!” Siria argued. “I’m not going with him.”  
“We get you think he’s ‘pretty’, but come on Potter-Black” Seamus told her. “Look at ‘im.”  
“I am not going with Malfoy. When you see me with me date, you’ll all be shocked because you would never guess my date would agree to go with me.” Siria told them.  
“So it is a Slytherin then…” Lavender squinted over at the table. “Who?” She wondered.  
Cedric and Hermione postponed any preparation for the second task until everyone completed their holiday homework. It didn’t stop Siria and Warrington from bringing their eggs each night. Though Ron and Siria had more homework than they’d ever had, it was nothing compared to what the older students had received. Ron stared at the sixth years’ piles of homework like it was a ready to bite copy of the Monster Book of Monsters. “Two years” he muttered. “Just two year away.”  
Hermione finished her homework first and continued going through the Room’s selection of books on language or eggs. Though they had boiled the egg, put it in the fire, and even frozen it, they hadn’t gotten any closer to understanding the scream like sound that came from it. Whether it was the middle of the night or high noon, the egg screamed when opened. When Siria finished her homework, she sat the egg in her lap.  
“Wish there was someway to drown out the sound,” Siria murmured. Trying to figure out the clue wouldn’t be so bad, if they didn’t have to listen to it at deafening volumes.  
“What?” Cedric asked as he placed his book down to see Siria.  
“Sorry. I was just complaining about the sound.” She muttered.  
“Drown it…” Cedric paused and looked to Warrington, who pressed his eyes closed.  
“Mermish.” Warrington tsked.  
As they got up, the floor before Siria started to carve itself out and fill with water. By the time everyone had gathered around, there was a kiddie pool sized hole in the floor that was full of water. Siria steadily slid her egg into the water. Cedric and Warrington put an ear to the surface. Cho, Hermione, Maddy, Neville, Patricia, and Travers did the same. Ron looked to Siria with an expression that asked “Why?” She mouthed back that “it can’t hurt?” and the two placed their ears to the water. Siria braced herself for a scream as she opened the egg.  
It didn’t scream though, it sang.  
[Book: B4, 463 the song hint: Come seek us where our voices sound/We cannot sing above the ground/And while you’re searching, ponder this:/We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss/An hour long you’ll have to look/And recover what we took/But past an hour— the prospect’s black/Too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back]  
Hermione rushed to write down the song on a sheet of parchment then doubled it until everyone had a copy. “What do you suppose they’ll take?” Ron asked. “Your Firebolt?” Siria looked to her watch. She supposed she would miss her Firebolt, but perhaps not as much as knowing where Sirius was with a glance.  
“More important than the what, I can’t swim— at all.” Siria told them.  
“Well, we’ve got two months to teach you or else find a way.” Cedric told her. Warrington half raised his hand in an awkward wave.  
“I also don’t.” Warrington confessed.  
“Who can swim?” Hermione asked. Cedric, Cho, and Patricia were the only three of them that could. “Alright. Those of us that can’t swim will be in charge of finding ways for you to breathe underwater.” She decided.  
“You could use gillyweed.” Neville told them. “It’ll make you grow gills, so you can breathe, and gives you webbed fingers and toes to swim.”  
“I can’t decide if that’s cool or gross.” Siria told him.  
“We’ll need to figure out how long that lasts and how we’ll get it.” Warrington said. “And look at other options. He’s your friend, so it’s your method unless we find you something better.”  
“But—” Siria tried to protest that Warrington should be able to use it too, but Cedric agreed.  
“Listen to us on this, Siria.” Cedric told her. “Warrington might be able to use a Bubble-Head Charm.”  
“That’s for clean air!” Travers snapped at him.  
“We have time to practice it and see.” Cedric replied.  
“We do.” Warrington agreed. “Let’s call it a night. Now that we’ve got the clue, we can go from there.”  
As they collected their things, Siria slid a box over to Maddy, who nodded. Her heart thundered when Maddy disappeared with the box. Hermione gave a knowing smile before she turned Siria invisible. The Gryffindors headed back to their tower with linked hands. Neville seemed to knock them over less when he was held between Ron and Siria for support. Hermione revealed them in the empty and dark common room.  
“Do you think she’ll wear it?” Hermione asked Siria as they walked up the steps to their dorm.  
“I mean, I certainly hope so.” Siria confessed with a smile on her face. The closer they were to the Yule Ball, the more she smiled. Not only would this awkward social dance be over, but the actual dance would be and she would be out. “Do you suppose Chloe could add a rainbow to my dress?” Siria joked. She knew Chloe would if she asked, but knew Chloe would want to remake the entire dress to do so.  
They cracked their dorm room open then slipped into their beds. Siria smiled at the ceiling. She knew there would be backlash and repercussions for coming out, but she survived a dragon— how bad could things be? Not only did she have Hermione and Ron, but Cedric, Maddy, Patricia, Travers, and Warrington. To some extent, she had Cho, Neville, and Daphne Greengrass herself.  
Christmas Eve, the Hogwarts Herald members that remained over break poured over their special release edition. An unmoving photograph of Marsha P. Johnson sat beneath the woman’s title cased name. Cedric had written a biography about her, which talked about Stonewall, her work with Sylvia Rivera on STAR, and how important she remains.

**Hogwarts Herald  
** Marsha P. Johnson Edition  
Friday, December 26th 2014  
_Marsha P. Johnson_ (cont. page 2)  
_Queer: a Spectrum_ by Hermione Granger (page 3)  
_How to be an Ally_ by Cedric Diggory (page 4)  
_Bi and Proud, an Interview with Siria Potter-Black_ (page 6)  
_A Grand Entrance_ (page 8)  


“It isn’t ideal to have them on the last page” Terry Boot repeated to Hermione.  
“We know!” Hermione strained. “But we would have to reformat the whole paper for the article the night of— are you going to leave the Yule Ball to reformat everything?”  
“I know.” Terry Boot rubbed his temples. Lily Moon turned over the pages and focused on the last page. “A Grand Entrance” was written out in the same script font as the other titles. They had left a large section in the middle of the page for a photo and a column space to the side.  
“Can’t we just take the picture early?” Lily asked and looked to Siria.  
“You want Colin to take the picture and keep it a secret for a day?” Siria asked. “Colin is a brilliant photographer, but he can hardly keep a secret about photos. He’d probably print out a stack and scatter them through school.”  
“But for a day,” Ernie Macmillan tried to defend.  
“No.” Cedric told them. “Besides, a photo of Siria and her date with the other champions and their partners will be better.” He rubbed his jaw and stared at the photo of Marsha P. Johnson. “And Marsha deserves the front page.”  
“Agreed!” Siria smiled. “And, thank you.”  
“Alright Heralds,” Hermione clapped. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. See you at the ball.” They closed up and collected their things. Hermione took the paper and smiled at Marsha P. Johnson’s smiling face. “I’m glad Patricia pointed us in her direction. The LGBTQA community wouldn’t be what it is without her.”  
“I’m not going to lie, I’m extra glad because I’m part of the community and didn’t know what everything stood for” Siria confessed. She zipped up her coat and slung her bag over her shoulder. “Also very glad that Cedric wrote the article and not me. I mean, he sounds better than anyone on the Daily Prophet.”  
“He might write better than you, but you have a different relation to her. I think other people would like to hear what you have to say on things and not because you’re the Girl Who Lived, but as a member of the community.” Hermione told her. Siria shrugged and adjusted the strap on her shoulder.  
“Maybe.”

 

 

Author’s Note:  
Marsha P. Johnson is a real person that I definitely recommended people interested in the history of the American queer community look into. I’d like to recommend everyone look into her. She gets overlooked a lot, I feel, so I wanted to bring her to people’s attention.


	23. The Yule Ball

**The Yule Ball**   


[Book: B4, 407 Siria wakes up on Christmas morning with Dobby practically nose to nose with her and startles]  
Hermione, who had been in the dorms when Peter Pettigrew broke in, leapt from her bed with her wand in hand. Kreacher wrestled Dobby to the floor. Lavender shrieked at the sight of them. “It’s fine!” Siria called once she realized what happened. “It’s fine.” She repeated as she stepped off her bed. “Sorry to wake you” said Siria.  
“No problem.” Hermione lowered her wand. “Merry Christmas, ladies.”  
“What are you two doing here?” Siria asked as she knelt down beside the two wrestling house elves. Kreacher and Dobby separated themselves. “Dobby has a gift for Siria!” Dobby told her as Kreacher said “Kreacher has brought Mistress’s present.” The two house elves glared at each other.  
“Oh, Dobby, I have yours, but Kreacher, I wasn’t expecting you, so I mailed it home.” Siria confessed. The greying house elf pulled out a palm sized box, with a tag addressed from her to him. She smiled. “Then, let’s open our gifts together.” Siria opened her trunk at its pastel yellow point, where it was full of colorfully wrapped boxes and lumpy packages. She handed Dobby his lumpy gift and accepted a similar one from him and a flat box from Kreacher.  
Dobby had given Siria two mismatched socks [Book: B4. 409 Dobby made them himself. One red with broomsticks & one green with Snitches, which Siria puts on & Dobby’s ears flap with joy]. He unwrapped Siria’s present, which she blushed over because she had gotten him socks as well. Dobby held up the two pairs of socks; they both had little animal faces on them that, when the wearer’s feet were together, made the animal’s face. “Sock are Dobby’s favorite!” the small elf told her (B4, 409).  
“I don’t feel bad then,” Hermione told them as she handed Dobby a small package, which also turned out to be socks. Siria chuckled.  
“We got the same kind,” she rubbed her face, but Hermione and Dobby were both quite pleased. [B4, 409 Dobby has to leave to help with the feast].  
Kreacher forced his flat box into Siria’s hands and looked up at her expectantly. It was not at all what she would have expected. He had given her a stationary set— a Muggle stationary set. There were envelopes decorated with a kitten chasing a ladybug that matched the border of the cardstock. It came with a black spotted, red fountain pen and several refills. “I love it,” Siria told Kreacher and hugged him. He opened her gift to him, a locket. Siria hung the locket around Kreacher’s neck and showed him how to open it.  
“Master!” Kreacher gave a large, gummy smile at the sight of Regulus Black’s photo. Regulus was barely older than Siria, but he looked far more mature. His expression remained firm and stoic as he raised his head, which highlighted his sharp jawline. It was the most recent photo Sirius could find of Regulus, just after he took the Dark Mark. Opposite of Regulus, Siria smiled and laughed inside the locket. “Now you really can see us whenever you want.” She told him. Hermione had gotten Kreacher some primary writing books to help him practice his letters. He looked wide-eyed at her then to Siria. “It’s alright.” Hermione told Kreacher. “You coming to see Siria is an amazing gift.” She assured him before he left.  
“Where’s my gift?” Lavender asked from her bed, where she was surrounded by her opened gifts and their wrappings. Siria tsked, but laughed as she tossed Lavender, Parvati, and Fay their gifts. The girls gathered to open their gifts from each other and show what they had received. Fay had gotten Siria Quidditch Teams of Britain and Ireland; Lavender, a bottle of Mood Polish, which she gave each of the girls and explained that it changes color depending on the wearer’s mood; Parvati, a beautiful silver hair pin with glittering green stones “since your date is a Slytherin and all”; Hermione, Moony & Padfoot: a Look Into the Fashion Empire, which only ever mentioned Remus and Sirius as “Chloe Causer and her partners”; Ron, a sealed jar labeled “Creepy Crawlies”; Cedric, Mending Transformations: Where Transfiguration and Healing Meet; from Travers and Warrington, Potions Made Easy: A Guide for Any Dorcus; Remus, a silver serpent ear cuff and two emerald studs; and Chloe, an emerald pendant, cradled in silver, and held on a long, braided chain of silver, gold, and green.  
[Book: B4, 410 Hagrid gives her the box of sweets & Mrs. Weasley gives her the sweater & pies]

Despite his word that no one would get a Christmas present from him, in exchange for the Omnioculars, Sirius could not help himself. In addition to a subscription to Out Magazine, he gave her penknife to unlock any door or untie any knot (B4, 410). He also gave her a new pair of boots. They were shiny black, ankle lace up boots, with commando purple bottoms.  
“Are those to help you sneak out?” Parvati smirked at Siria, who quickly stashed the boots back in their box and slid them under her bed.  
“Hm?” Siria asked in reply as she opened the fourth and final gift from Sirius.  
“We hear you, Siria.” Lavender said.  
“We’re less worried when you sneak out with Hermione,” Fay said. She looked over her shoulder and paused packing her presents into her trunk. “Hermione usually has the sense not to get into trouble.”  
“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it.” Hermione tsked at them. “It’s just extra practice, for the Tournament, isn’t it?” Hermione looked to Siria.  
“It’s a boy!” Lavender insisted.  
“She’s totally sneaking out to see her date!” Parvati said through her giggles.  
Siria clutched the fourth and final gift, a compact in her hands and stared at the Black Family Coat of Arms. Unlike the one she had seen hidden throughout Number Twelve, there was a triangle with a line going straight through and a circle, above the Crest, where the skull usually was. “Actually, ladies,” Siria smirked at them, “I’ve been sneaking out to see Moaning Myrtle. We hang out for hours!” She rolled her eyes, but not nearly as much as Lavender.   
“For Merlin’s sake, Siria!” Lavender threw herself on the floor, “we’re seeing him tonight— just tell us!” Siria stroked the compact.  
“You wouldn’t believe me.” She assured them. Parvati threw her pillow into Siria’s face.  
“At least wipe that stupid grin off your face. Whoever it is, of course he said yes!” Parvati said. She shook her head at Siria.

[Book: B4, 410-411 it’s a quiet day of food and snowball fights]  
At four o’clock, Hermione called Siria to head back to the castle with her. “You can’t need four hours!” Ron tried to argue.  
“Let them go!” Fred called as George hurled a large snowball at Ron’s face.  
“See you!” Siria waved to them and linked her arm through Hermione’s.  
“My heart feels like it’s going to explode and I can’t tell if it’s nerves or excitement, but I’m pretty sure I’m not really going to vomit.” Siria confessed.  
“That’s quite a lot,” Hermione patted Siria’s hand, which remained wrapped through her arm their entire walk. “How upset do you think they’ll be about the room?” Hermione asked with a sideways glance to Siria, who shrugged.  
“Not nearly as much as shocked at my date. Fay did ask if I was going with Lily Moon, so she may be less shocked than Lavender and Parvati.” Siria nuzzled her face to Hermione’s shoulder. “It’s so hard to be calm. Can’t I fight another dragon instead?”  
“No,” Hermione tapped Siria’s nose with her finger. “Be brave, young Potter-Black. The world is counting on you.” She teased with a smile, but both of the girls sighed. Hermione had been joking, of course, but it felt a little true sometimes.  
Fay, Ginny, Lavender, Padma and Parvati were already in the seventh floor corridor, with their things, when Hermione and Siria arrived. Siria paced before the Room of Requirement, which appeared for them. It looked nothing like it did when they practiced. The floor was one, giant, firm, black cushion. Instead of the usual round room, it was a large rectangle, with mirrors all down the walls. There were curtained off sections, scattered cushioned seats, low tables to set things on, and a display of accessories. In the back of the room, in the only section without a mirror behind it, was a curtained off tub with a shelf of products beside it.  
Ginny sat her things down at the table closest to the door and knelt beside it. Lavender tsked in disbelief. She and Parvati glared at Siria and Hermione. Padma covered her mouth as she inspected the room. Fay socked Siria in the arm. “Is this where you’ve been? No wonder you smell so clean after!”  
“Long story,” Siria smirked, “Let’s just focus on getting ready.”  
“You’re not getting off of this story, Potter-Black” Parvati pointed as she placed her things down on one of the tables.  
“Or the story of your date— tell us!” Lavender insisted.  
“We’ll know soon enough,” Padma shook her head. “Now, do we put on the dresses then paint our nails?”  
“Oh!” Siria exclaimed and opened her dress box, “I’ve got this— Chloe made me list.” She peeled the list off the inside of her box.  
Siria had barely finished reading when the door to the Room of Requirement opened. Alice Travers, Cho Chang, Luna Lovegood, Maddy Selwyn, Patricia Kenner, and Astoria and Daphne Greengrass entered together. Maddy counted them as she closed the door. “That’s everyone, aside your ducklings, isn’t it?” Maddy asked Siria, who nodded.  
“Colin and Dennis will be here about seven, and will probably need all our help.” Siria smiled.  
“Ladies, as you know, this Room is a secret, for the purpose of Siria and Warrington’s practice— it needs to stay available.” Hermione told them. “That or she might do something crazy, like practice in the Chamber of Secrets.” Siria looked at her things to avoid eye contact with Hermione.  
“Merlin’s Beard!” Lavender shouted when they had all gotten dressed. She pointed from Siria’s dress to Daphne’s. Chloe had not made much of any change to Siria’s dress, which was green and silver with starlike beads woven around her waist. Daphne’s dress was a long, red A-line with golden tulle wrapped and layered around her waist. In many ways, it was the Gryffindor version of Siria’s, but trumpeted out just before it touched the floor, whereas Siria’s dress went just past her knees.   
“You’re her date!” Lavender pressed her palms to her face then peaked between her fingers. “Of course, I wouldn’t have guessed it! I thought you liked Malfoy. I would have never guessed you were gay!” Blood rushed to Siria’s face as she pinned her “I Support C.W./S.P.B.” button to her dress.  
“I’m bi, actually.” Siria scratched the back of her neck and looked sheepishly around the room. “Tonight, we’re coming out.”  
“That’s awesome!” Travers smiled and pinned her button to her dark, pine green dress. She raised an eyebrow as she scanned across the room. The other girls put their buttons on as well.  
Lavender rushed to put her button on. “That’s amazing! I don’t know any bi people— except you.” She laughed. “Oh, I’ve got so many questions. When did you find out? Have you always known? What’s it like?  
“You can ask me questions about it later.” Siria looked to her watch. “We’ve only got an hour to do Hermione’s hair before the Creevey brothers show up.”  
“You mean your brothers!” Padma chuckled to her sister. “I hear you were invited over for Christmas.”  
“No,” Parvati shook her head with a grin, “I believe, fair sister, that she was invited over forever.” The twins shared a laugh. Siria puffed her cheeks out and stood beside the seat near Hermione.  
Sirius had given Hermione a case of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. According to the bottle, it was meant to tame hair in a few drops. The Potion had never met Hermione’s hair. After a bottle and their hour, Hermione’s bushy hair was sleeker than any of the girls thought hair could be. It almost felt like running one’s hand through water. Her hair had a shine that radiated health. “Do you really want it put up?” Parvati asked as she trailed her fingers through Hermione’s hair. “It looks so nice now.”  
While they debated how Hermione’s hair should be done, Siria poked her head outside. Colin and Dennis Creevey stared with dropped jaws and eyes full of wonder. “If you tell a soul about this room—” Siria started, but the brothers pushed past her block to hug her.  
“We won’t!” They promised as she closed the door. “Really!” Colin insisted. He traced over his heart with a finger. “I swear! Can we come practice with you?”  
“Please!” Dennis looked up to Siria, still wrapped around her with Colin. She looked at their eager faces and pressed her lips together. Their eyes seemed to widen with an innocence matched only by Astoria. Siria sighed and placed her hands on her hips, which was made difficult by the four arms clinging to her. “Fine!” She grumbled.  
“Thank you!” They shouted.  
“Come on, boys.” Cho smiled at the Creevey brothers. “Siria still has to finish.” She patted a seat near her and the Colin hurried to Cho. Dennis stuck around to give Siria a tighter hug before he joined his brother. Siria crossed an arm over herself and pressed her face into her other hand. “You spoil them,” Fay said with a smile, “Just spoil us too.”  
“Yeah, yeah.” Siria waved her hand before pressing her face into her knuckle.  
“I mean it,” Fay put her hand on Siria’s shoulder. “We’re sneaking out to help you.”  
Twenty minutes to spare, the group looked to one another. They scanned each other’s Mood Polish. Daphne placed her hand on Siria’s shoulder. While Daphne’s nails were a cool, pale blue, Siria’s were an anxious red-orange. “Scared, Potter-Black?” She asked with a teasing smile.  
“No,” Siria extended her arm to Daphne. “I’ve handled a basilisk and dragon, what’s a ball compared to them?” Daphne took Siria’s arm with a half smirk.  
“Could I get a picture now?” Colin asked with his camera already raised.  
“In the hall,” Hermione instructed. She opened the door and ushered them outside. They lined up and Colin took one, large group shot of them before Hermione ushered them downstairs.  
Most of the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students had arrived. Siria’s heart thundered so loudly it felt like airplanes were taking off in her ears. She could hear even less than during the first task. While the other girls broke off to be with their Houses or their dates, Siria and Daphne continued forward with Hermione. Daphne placed her free hand over Siria’s. “Thank you for helping me come out.” Daphne told her. “If I didn’t now, I might have gotten married off to some other ‘Pureblood’ to have little Purebloods of our own.” Daphne spared Siria a soft half smile. “Now some beautiful girl will come to steal ‘Potter’s girl’ and stay because she loves me.” Warmth and blood rushed to Siria’s face as a laugh slipped through.  
Her red-orange Mood Polish became an almost relaxed blue-green. “Any girl would be lucky to have you.” Siria smiled to Daphne.  
“Let’s hope you’re lucky enough to have someone,” She grinned in reply. They stood with Hermione, until the Durmstrang students entered with Karkaroff.  
[Book: B4, 412-414 Hogwarts is as described with decorations for the event. McGonagall calls the Champions over. The rest of the students enter, while the Champions & their dates wait to be last]  
Daphne remained as composed as ever while people pointed, whispered, and the like when they walked past. Siria kept her hand on Daphne’s with their arms still linked. She raised her head and thought of how Sirius stood. He always stood proud and she felt she needed to do the same. Travers glared at anyone that gawked at Daphne and Siria or Hermione. Warrington’s face was flat and unreadable, but Siria noticed he stared determined at the wall, above everyone’s heads.  
[Book: B4, 414-419 the Champions enter last and sit at the top table with the judges. Percy is there in place of Crouch because Crouch “isn’t feeling well”. People order dinner. Krum and Hermione talk about Durmstrang, until Karkaroff tells him to stop. Dumbledore tells the story of how he stumbled across the Room of Requirement, without naming it as such. Fleur isn’t happy with Hogwarts and believes Beauxbatons to be much better. Hagrid and Madame Maxime share a wave and smile. Hermione tries to teach Krum how to say her name & settles on “Herm-own-ninny.” Then it’s time to dance, so the tables are put away and the Weird Sisters are set up.]  
With their heads held high, Daphne and Siria linked hands. Daphne placed her other hand on Siria’s shoulder and Siria placed hers on Daphne’s waist. Siria focused on following Daphne’s steps and on her eyes. “What?” Daphne asked in her usual, cool tone.  
“Your eyes are cool,” Siria smirked. “They’re like giant sunflowers.”  
“My eyes are brown.” Daphne tsked.  
“Fine, they’re like giant, brown sunflowers.” Siria leaned a little closer. “The brown fans out like flower petals and you have these cool specks of almost yellow. Say what you will, but I think they’re like sunflowers.”  
“You’re stupid.” Daphne muttered as she continued to lead Siria, but enough couples had joined the dance floor for the Champions to be forgotten.  
[Book: B4, 420 Moody comments on Siria’s socks and she tells him Dobby made them]

“I knew you said you were wearing sneakers, but I honestly thought someone was going to stop you.” Daphne confessed.  
“If I were heels, I’d be half a foot taller than you.” Siria told her.  
“I am wearing heels, so you’d be as tall as usual.” Daphne said. Siria shrugged. She was surprised Professor McGonagall hadn’t stopped her, but with the contacts, makeup, dress and jewelry, Siria felt there was enough to distract people from her shoe choice.  
“We need to sit down,” Daphne told Siria as she tugged on a loose lock of Siria’s hair. “Apparently you actually only needed two drops.” Siria shrugged, but the song ended and went to sit with Ron. Luna Lovegood was a pale, airy girl with pale blonde hair. She smiled at Daphne and Siria over the top of her magazine, The Quibbler. Ron rolled Siria’s clutch to her.  
[Book: B4, 420-422 Ron is glaring at Hermione and Krum. When the song ends and Hermione joins them, Ron throws a fit and says Hermione shouldn’t be with Krum because he’s the enemy and says that Krum is just going with Hermione to get information on Siria. When Hermione tells him Krum hasn’t mentioned Siria, Ron says Krum must want her help on the egg then]  
“Enough!” Siria snapped at Ron and rose to her feet. She pointed her finger at Ron. “Don’t— you— dare! Don’t you dare say another word” Siria cursed through her clenched jaw. “You know Hermione and you know you’re being a huge jerk for no reason.”  
“But she’s—” Ron started and gestured to Hermione.  
“No!” Siria told him. “There are other tables,” she pointed around the room.  
“You can’t be serious!” Ron rolled his head back. Siria picked her clutch off the table and glared at him.  
“I am— and you know it.” She, Daphne, and Hermione made their way to the table Ginny and Neville were at.  
“You know,” Daphne placed her hand on Siria’s arm, “I should check on my sister.” She gave a look that made Siria want to hug her.  
“I think I’m going to get some air,” Siria said and hoped her look was as thankful to Daphne as she felt. Hermione and Siria stepped outside.  
[Book: B4, 425-429 Karkaroff and Snape discuss, without naming, that their Dark Marks are getting clearer and how Snape isn’t leaving Hogwarts. They then hear Hagrid tell Madame Maxime that he’s half giant. She’s offended when he says she is too. There’s a beetle on the statue near them.]  
“Giants are believed to be quite primal and violet, so, however unfortunate, it’s not wonder Madame Maxime doesn’t want to admit it, but I think it’s all a load of rubbish. It’s no different than the belief house elves are meant to be enslaved” Hermione told Siria as they returned to the dance. “Thank you, but I think I’ve kept Viktor for too long.”  
“You could say I wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Siria suggested, but Hermione shook her head.  
“I’d never paint such a poor picture of you.” Hermione assured her. Siria squeezed Hermione’s hand and saw the stressed, black polish had turned pale blue and calm. She wasn’t even sure how accurate the polish was, but it was comforting and she let Hermione go.  
Astoria, Colin, Dennis, and Daphne were dancing loosely with each other and Millicent Bulstrode. Millicent nodded at Siria when she approached. Siria waved, but put her hand down and nodded back. “Hey, Millicent. You haven’t been to the Sunday group for awhile.” Siria wanted to bite her own tongue off.  
“Not my speed.” Millicent replied.  
“Me neither.” Siria squeezed her eyes shut. Daphne scoffed.  
“If you were anymore awkward…” Daphne shook her head.  
“That’s actually my life goal. I want to be the most awkward person ever.” Siria grinned.  
“Then you’re doing a great job.” Daphne assured her.  
As midnight grew slower, the number of slow songs increased. Daphne declined most of them, so Siria asked around. She danced with Maddy and Patricia, then Travers, Warrington, Cho, and Cedric. Krum agreed to a dance, while Hermione allowed Siria two. Even Fleur DeLacour accepted one of Siria’s offers. To Siria’s surprise, Ginny Weasley asked her for a dance, which she accepted.  
Around eleven thirty, Siria circled back to Ron’s table. She reached for a chair and looked to Ron, who nodded and Siria sat down. “Mate, what is up with you?” Siria asked.  
“She went with Krum, Siria— Krum.” Ron hissed.  
“Yeah, I was there when he asked— in the first few days.” Siria told him. “Hermione’s bloody brilliant, she’s beautiful, and she’s kind. Krum wasn’t the only one to ask her— you were there when that fifth year asked her and you laughed about him getting rejected. Krum is lucky she accepted and, if you feel otherwise, maybe you should have asked her first.”  
“What?” Ron asked and pulled back in his chair. “I wouldn’t— she’s just—” He mouthed wordlessly before he crossed his arms and looked away. “Whatever.”  
“Luna, would you like to dance?” Siria asked. Luna Lovegood looked over her copy of The Quibbler and shook her head.  
“Maybe later. I’m very interested in this mystery dad’s printed— I think it’s Kappnerklaks.” Luna told her. Siria looked from Luna to Ron, who shrugged with his arms still crossed, then back to Luna.  
“Cool.” Siria nodded and excused herself, knowing she had no idea what a Kappnerklak was.  
Whatever happened between Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson had been resolved because Pansy had left Malfoy to dance with Daphne and Millicent. Pansy was even wearing Daphne’s “I Support C.W./S.P.B.” button. Siria smirked and walked around the floor. She rubbed her right arm and realized how awkward she felt. Being out was liberating and anxiety inducing, but there was only moving forward. Her watch told her there was only time for a few songs before midnight, then it was off to finish the Herald, and pass it off to Kreacher, who would give it to Sirius to print off.  
She supposed no one would notice one less person and slipped out of the hall. Until she was almost at the dungeon, Siria could hear the music playing. When she arrived in Augusta Dungeon, Kreacher was there with a hot chocolate and a large smile. He and Sirius had been worried about how the ball had gone, not that they would ever confess it to her.


	24. Rita Skeeter's Scoop

**Rita Skeeter’s Scoop**   


Before New Years, Siria received over thirty letters from students with questions. The number increased when the Hogwarts Herald put up notices in each common room about a new “Ask Siria” column. People could write to Siria under a penname for advice or answers. With every letter Sirius sent, he sent a new resource for her to better answer the questions she received. When the post-Yule Ball Hogwarts Herald was reprinted by popular demand, Cedric slipped in a notice about “Ask Siria,” which caused more letters to arrive. By the time Rita Skeeter’s article came out, she was too late for the students or parents of Hogwarts. Dumbledore even addressed some of the parents concerns with the simple statement of “I have known a gay man for many years and not once has he caught the interest of a man who was not already interested in men.”  
Terry Boot put the Hogwarts Herald copy into Siria’s hands. “Look at this!” He exclaimed and flipped through. Cedric gave “Ask Siria” a column on the front and the entire back page. “Lily and Dean were fine with it!” Terry said at the look of wordless wonder on Siria’s face. “He just moved their comics up,” Terry told her and flipped to the page. “It goes to print tonight, so you’ll want to double check.”  
“I know when it goes to print,” Siria blushed as she looked over her glasses at him.  
“Right, duh,” Terry shook his head with a smile, “it’s just… it’s exciting.” He patted her arm. “You’re pretty cool.” He told her then left for the Ravenclaw table and she sat down at the Gryffindor table.  
“When are you going to tell me where you sneak out to?” Hermione asked as they headed to the Room of Requirement. “I know it isn’t the Room… I” she sighed. “I snuck out after you.”  
“Hermione, you could be expelled, snuck out?” Ron asked as entered the Room.  
“What do you call what we do every night?” Hermione shook her head and sat down. “Really, Siria. Where are you going?” Siria scratched the back over her neck and looked sheepishly over her classes.  
“I’m practicing.” She murmured.  
“Are you going into the Lake?” Hermione asked. Her brow was knitted with worry.  
“I wouldn’t swim alone— especially there.” Siria leaned against the wall as she sat down. In a month and a half, she would be swimming alone, in the Lake for the second task.  
“Look,” Siria said while she pulled her aquatard from her bag, “I’ll take you one day, but I need to be aloneish sometimes.”  
“Aloneish?” Hermione repeated. Siria shrugged and went behind the recently formed curtained section of the room to change. “Who are you with?” Hermione asked.  
“Hermione,” Siria could hear Ron whisper, “what if she’s…” Siria shook her head and drew the curtain back.  
“I’m not hooking up with someone.” She told them as she waited for the small pool to form. Ron rolled the jar of gillyweed to Siria. “Where is everyone?” She asked and put a handful of the slimy gillyweed into her mouth. It still felt like trying to swallow a live eel.  
“They’ll get here eventually.” Ron shrugged. “Or they’re afraid of catching your gay.” He rolled his eyes. Siria dove into the water. It was easy to treed with the gillyweed in her system and she couldn’t breathe out of water. As she went under, she caught Hermione say “that isn’t funny— that’s why Dumbledore made that statement.”  
The act of being underwater was almost as comforting as it was unsettling. When Siria closed her eyes, it was almost like being asleep. The unsettling feeling usually occured when she remembered her spells didn’t work right. So far, she had made several jets of hot streams, but nothing else. Her silent casting was even worse. With the Tournament as her main focus, everything that wasn’t necessary had been dropped. Sirius had stopped visiting to give her more time to prepare or sleep.

Rita Skeeter celebrated the Sunday before term with a new article, about Hagrid.  
[Book: B4, 437-440 Rita’s article about Hagrid, without Malfoy & Crabbe’s bit about the Hippogriff & flobberworm changed with them telling Rita another student was maimed and Crabbe was bit by a salamander.]  
“I’m not going to the Sunday group.” Siria said and stuffed the paper back into Hermione’s hands. “I’m going to check on Hagrid,” she looked to Ron who nodded. Ernie Macmillan and Lily Moon came over the the Gryffindor table with Cedric.  
“So you’ve seen this new pile of garbage too,” Ernie shook his head at the paper in Hermione’s hands. “Doesn’t she have anything better to do than ruin people’s lives?”  
“Are we running interference?” Lily Moon asked. “Interviews, positive cartoons?” She gave a sideways glance to Cedric and whispered “negative Rita ones?”  
“How are we helping?” Cedric asked. Siria smiled at them and looked to Hermione and Ron.  
“Well, smartest witch of her year & best strategist of his, how are we?” Siria asked them. Ron’s face turned the color of his hair, but sat up straight and smirked to Hermione.  
After Hermione and Ron proposed their plan, the others set out to set things in motion while Siria and Ron went to see Hagrid. They pounded on the door of his cabin, but Fang’s roaring barks were the only reply. “Hagrid!” Siria called. “It’s us!” She slipped down and leaned against his door. “Hagrid, if you’re in there, I wouldn’t care if you were half manticore half dementor, you’re you.” she said. Ron looked to Siria with an apologetic look. “You didn’t write the article, don’t look so sorry.”  
“Maybe we should come back later.” Ron suggested. Siria pulled her legs to her chest and shook her head.  
“You go ahead. I’m free until practice.” She told him. Ron put his bag down beside Siria and sat with her.  
“Naw. I’m free too.” He shrugged. She nudged her shoulder into his with a smile and unspoken “Thanks.”  
Though they waited for hours, Hagrid either was not home or did not want to see them. Ron and Siria returned to the castle for dinner. She picked at the food Hermione put on her plate, while Ron inhaled anything within reach. Hermione tried to cheer Siria up with the knowledge that they would see Hagrid tomorrow. It lasted until Monday morning, after Herbology, when a stranger was outside Hagrid’s cabin.  
[Book: B4, 435-441 Grubbly-Plank is there & shows the girls unicorns while the boys are to listen from a distance. Parvati comments she wants Grubbly-Plank to stay because that’s what she thought Care of Magical Creatures would be.]

“But Hagrid!” Siria stressed. Sure, his lessons had gotten a little boring since the Hippogriff incident, but that wasn’t Hagrid’s fault. Sirius had made sure Hagrid didn’t let them near anything dangerous until next year. Siria looked over her shoulder, back at Hagrid’s closed up hut, as they continued toward the castle. Maybe she could talk Sirius into letting Hagrid teach what he wanted. After all, she had enjoyed the Hippogriff lesson until Malfoy ruined it.  
“Hagrid could do lessons like that too!” Siria told them.  
“He doesn't though. Have you seen the monsters the sixth years have been wrestling?” Lavender asked. “Those giant, shelled, rocket lobsters are monsters.” She shuddered.  
“You’re welcome to like Grubbly-Plank, but she’s not staying!” Siria said as she crossed her arms. She turned to Hermione.  
“Please tell me things are going well?” Siria requested. Hermione tilted her head from side to side.  
“Well, Ernie Macmillan’s mother replied and has written to her friends for support letters. I just don’t know how well students will respond after that Grubbly-Plank lesson.” Hermione confessed.  
“That lesson was awful!” Ron rolled his head back. “It must have been nice for you two, but I was stuck with Malfoy— behind the paddock.” Siria clicked her tongue and looked to Hermione.  
“It wasn’t fun for the guys, so we’ll poll them.” Siria suggested.  
“We can’t poll only them.” Hermione told Siria. “We’d be no different than the Daily Prophet. I’ll think of something fair.”  
“Fair? When have they fought fair?” Siria cried. She looked to Ron for support.  
“They do fight dirty— it’s mostly lies in their articles.” He agreed.  
“I won’t let the Herald sink to their level. We can still get Hagrid back.” Hermione argued.

When the mid-January Hogsmeade visit arrived, Maddy insisted they all take the day for some much needed air. Hermione tried to protest, but was overwhelmingly outvoted. She, Neville, Ron, and Siria headed down to the village together. “Well, someone figured it out too.” Neville said as Viktor Krum dove into the freezing waters of the Lake (B4, 433). Ron and Siria shivered. Neither could imagine the waters being much warmer in February, but at least she would be eating Gillyweed.  
[Book: B4 444-445 The Three Broomsticks is crowded and they see Ludo Bagman, who appears to be getting harassed by goblins]

Siria flattened her Transfigured red hair down and tugged her hat a little lower. She turned to keep her face away from Bagman. “What is it?” Hermione asked. With her head lowered, Siria leaned toward the middle of the table, as did the others.  
“For starters, I don’t know if I trust anyone that agrees with Rita Skeeter on anything, but he tried to offer me advice on the first task,” she muttered. Hermione gasped and pulled back.  
“He what?”  
“It’s not that big a deal,” Ron tried to reason. “He probably offered every—” but Siria was shaking her head. “I mean, it’s not like we’re playing by the rules anyway.”  
“It’s not like Siria was entered by the rules,” Neville mumbled into his butterbeer.  
“The difference, which you all seem to not be seeing, is that he is a judge!” Hermione hissed the last word between clenched teeth. She glared over her butterbeer, to where Bagman was still cornered by the goblins. “Serves him right.”  
[Book: B4, 449-451 As Bagman leaves, Rita enters. Hermione calls Rita out for ruining people’s lives & Rita says she knows things about Bagman that would make Hermione’s hair curl “not that it needs it”]

“I’d rather have curly hair than a rotten core!” Hermione barked at Rita. Rita’s smiled flickered again. “Let’s go, wouldn’t want you to rub off on us.” Hermione added and led the way. Ron caught Neville’s arm, which stopped his fall, and the four headed out.  
[Book: B4, 451-453 Ron tells Hermione that she’ll be next, but Hermione says Rita can’t scare her into hiding. They hurry to Hagrid’s cabin, where Dumbledore is, and Siria says they still want to know him.]

“We don’t care what that—” and Siria said a word she knew she shouldn’t, but had heard Chloe call Beatrice in accounting it when she was furious. Hermione and Ron stared at Siria with dropped jaws and Neville knocked his mug over. “I’m sorry Professor,” Siria told Dumbledore, “but also not sorry at all!”  
[Book: B4, 453-456 Dumbledore says he’s gone temporarily deaf and couldn’t hear her. They then get Hagrid to agree to come back. Hagrid tells Siria he would love for her to win and show people you don’t need to be a pureblood.]


	25. Moody & the Map

**Moody & the Map **   


Hot, rotted milk, trapped in a thermos for days smelt better than the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione, who had finally worn Siria down, emptied her stomach by the Chamber doors. She clenched her hands to her mouth and nose then cried through them “What in the name?” as she gagged. Siria wrinkled her nose at the smell.  
“Suppose I’ve gotten a little used to it.” She shrugged. Hermione coughed and wheezed so hard that Siria closed the door. “Well, you wanted to see it, there it is.”  
“No!” Hermione shook her head so furiously that her bushy hair waved madly. “I didn’t come down here to stop at the door.” She took hold of Siria’s arm. “We talked about this— I deserve to see.”  
The viper Siria summoned hissed and the doors opened again. Hermione hurried them to body of the decaying basilisk. She pulled her dragonhide gloves from her pocket then tapped Siria with them. “You want me to get it?” Siria asked, wide-eyed. Hermione’s brown eyes were full of water. “Maybe you ought to learn that Bubble-Head Charm soon.” Siria tsked, but took the gloves. With an almost gentle tug, the fang squelched from the rotting jaws of the basilisk. A toxic looking yellow foam bubbled up from the hole. Siria grabbed Hermione by the arm and ran through the muck of the Chamber, back to the door.  
“Here!” Siria shoved the fang into Hermione’s hands as she picked her Firebolt from the wall by the entrance. She yanked the gloves off, “these too. I’m not bringing you until you learn that Charm.” Hermione shoved her gloves back into her pocket.  
“Honestly, I’m more surprised that you don’t need it.” Hermione confessed as she rubbed her nose. “I can still smell it,” she hacked.  
Siria shook her head, but mounted the broom, with Hermione behind her. They flew up the slide and back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Myrtle raised an eyebrow at their entrance. “Aren’t you early? Cutting it a little short?” Her moping voice asked. “Must be confident now.”  
“I’ll see you tomorrow Myrtle.” Siria shrugged her off to look at the Marauder's Map.  
[Book: B4, 466-467 Bartemius Crouch is in Snape’s office, so they decide to investigate]

One moment, Hermione and Siria were standing, hand in hand, in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom; the next, there was only Myrtle, who giggled into her hand while the door opened then closed. With her Firebolt slung over her shoulder, Siria followed Hermione, who had her nose the Map on Crouch’s name. As being invisible didn’t make them quiet, the two walked a little slower than they did when they rushed to classes. Whenever the heel of Siria’s boot clicked against the floor, Siria winced and Hermione’s grip in her hand tightened for a second.  
“PEEVES!” Filch cried (B4, 468). Hermione and Siria looked behind them, to the trail of small, drop sized holes in the floor. They looked each other up and down until Siria pointed to Hermione’s bag. There was a fresh, fine point hole in the corner. The basilisk fang had leaked for who knew who long and it was more corrosive than either of them had anticipated. Hermione thrust the map into Siria’s hands and let go of Siria. In a blink, Hermione was gone. Siria looked to the map, where she saw Hermione’s dot take off for the stairs, but she wasn’t the only dot.  
Siria rushed to press herself against the wall as Severus Snape entered the corridor. There was a quick snap and Siria clattered into the wall. Her heel had snapped. She dropped to her knees, put the map in her mouth, and crawled with her broom in one hand, away from the fresher holes. Snape narrowed his eyes at the spot Siria’s heel had snapped. She pressed herself to the wall a little down and unlaced her boots. Snape asked Flich for an explanation as Siria removed the broken heeled boot. Flinch shrieked and cried about the holes in the floor, the most recent ones were still giving off thin ribbons of smoke. Silent as she could, Siria removed the other boot. She tied them together as Snape and Filch stopped just after the end of the trail of holes.  
“It couldn’t have been Peeves— someone was in my supply cupboard!” Snape argued with Filch (B4, 469). With the quietest breath she could, Siria hung her boots around her shoulders and rose back to her socked feet.  
“But Peeves couldn’t have—” Filch sounded like Christmas was cancelled (B4,469).  
“I know!” Snape snapped. “Only a wizard could…” (B4, 469). Snape’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the corridor while Siria crept toward the staircase Hermione had dashed toward.  
[Book: B4, 470-472, 474 Moody shows up. Snape says a student may have broken into his office, that he isn’t hiding anything and that Dumbledore trusts him. Moody then tells Snape that Snape is free to prowl away, though Snape leaves and they hear a door slam]

“Close shave, Potter,” Moody muttered (B4, 474). Siria opened her mouth to add “Black,” but decided it was better not to correct the only person that knew she was there. She sighed and removed the Marauder's Map from under her arm to move it into her boot.  
“What’re you carrying a battered old thing like that for?” Moody asked. Siria mouthed wordlessly until she realized there wasn’t a lie Moody wouldn’t see through and hung her head.  
“It’s a map of the school— most of it at least.” She confessed as Moody clunked up the stairs beside her.  
“You can’t map Hogwarts, Potter.” Moody told her.  
“I can’t,” Siria emphasized. “Hogwarts, a History might not be all that accurate, as Hermione’s found.” Siria allowed herself a small smirk. “Let’s just say, I know some very talented people.”  
“Mind if I see that map?” Moody asked just outside the corridor to Gryffindor Tower. Reflexively, Siria hesitated, but Moody had helped her with the first task and argued Siria wouldn’t have put her name in. He was also the only person that proposed a method for how her name got in that didn’t involve her. She pinched the parchment between her fingers, but handed the Marauder's Map to him.  
[Book: B4, 475-478 Siria tells him that she saw Crouch in Snape’s office. Moody tells her that Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark Wizards. When he asks to borrow the Map, Siria is a little reluctant, but agrees. He tells Siria she should consider being an Auror and she returns to her dorm]

Light snuck through the crack of Siria’s opened trunk, which she hurried into. “What took you so long?” Hermione asked as she continued to put the basilisk venom into flasks. She pointed her wand over her shoulder at cast the Revealing Charm.  
“What took me so long?” Siria repeated. “Maybe it was—” A grumble in the room caused Siria to drop her voice, so she didn’t wake the others. “Maybe it was the fact my heel broke and I still suck at silent casting or the fact Snape and Moody showed up!”  
“Moody!” Hermione paused her flashing to look over her shoulder at Siria “But he can see you!” Her eyes were wide with worry and Siria sat down.  
“It’s fine. He has the Marauder's Map though,” she waved off Hermione’s continued worry. “It’s fine. I’ll pick it up in a few weeks or something.”

Patience masked the irritation that simmered somewhere inside Siria. It was so distant that it almost felt like she was irritated for someone else. Normally she felt warm when she was upset, fiery even, but she felt like ice. She shivered in the frosty yard of her nightmares. Siria clutched herself in her arms as her breath formed before her. It was silly of her and she knew, but she called for Sirius. A frigid laugh cut through the cold and into her bones. The laugh was forced and full of displeasure. Lead like weight sunk into her throat and a voice that wasn’t quite hers, but felt like it could almost be, repeated “these things take time.” Though, she couldn’t quite remember what “these things” were.  
In the oval office of Headmaster Dumbledore, Siria fell from her stool and clattered, with it, to the floor. She bolted to her feet and withdrew her wand before Cassius Warrington’s face came into focus. Siria tucked her wand into her jacket and massaged her temples. “I can’t,” she yawned as she picked the stool up only to sit down on the floor.  
Tired, she sprawled out on the floor. “Why can’t we have Time Turners?” Siria yawned. She rubbed her eyes under her glasses. “I wan’ a Time Turner,” she pouted.  
“I told you that you didn’t have to come if you weren’t going to practice too,” Warrington reminded her.  
“‘S no—” a huge yawn escaped Siria “fair,” she finished. Dumbledore patted Warrington’s shoulder.  
“It’s fine, Mr. Warrington. I do believe we are done, though, Ms. Potter-Black, if you can spare a moment, I’d like a word.” Dumbledore told them. Warrington spared them a glance over his shoulder before he stepped out.  
As refusing a word with the Headmaster, who had given you private lessons over summer and was continuing to keep your work sharp seemed like a lot of effort, Siria propped herself up on her tired arms. She leaned her head against the wall and knew she wasn’t giving off the slightest illusion of composure. Dumbledore sat in nearby armchair with his fingers linked. He looked over his half-moon glasses at her. “It was very wise of you to request I teach Mr. Warrington Fiendfyre, rather than showing him yourself.” He told her. She gave a bobbing nod.  
“Siria, as Fiendfyre has nothing to do with the Tournament, I am free to help Mr. Warrington learn, and you’re free to use the time to sleep. You may want to consider using Thursday nights to sleep as well.” Dumbledore suggested. Siria startled a little and failed to look otherwise. “I’m also sure that, while you will be missed on the Quidditch field, your skills will not dull.” His silver eyebrows knitted together with concern. “Siria, while it is good to be so involved, your fellow students will understand you taking a step back. Ms. Granger and Mr. Diggory would be more than happy to put a notice in the Hogwarts Herald that ‘Ask Siria’ is on a small hiatus as you prepare for the second task.”  
Another yawn escaped Siria as she attempted a futile argument. “A few weeks” had spiraled into a month without even mentioning getting the Marauder’s Map back from Moody. Instead of an argument, Siria sighed “how?” she asked. “How can I—” a yawn caught her, “I— drop anything?”  
“We can start with a letter to Sirius. I understand he has your best interest at heart, but his additional assignments seem to be wearing you down more than ‘keeping your mind sharp’.” There was a sympathetic twinkle in Dumbledore’s eye as he rose up. “Now, as I see it, you could do with tomorrow in the Hospital Wing.” He extended a hand to her.  
“But it’s Friday,” Siria pressed her head to her knees. She couldn’t miss lessons, she had double Potions. Siria’s head raised up and she took Dumbledore’s hand. Any excuse to miss Potions was a brilliant one.  
Madam Pomfrey had expected Siria prepared the curtains around a bed. Dumbledore saw Siria inside and thanked Madam Pomfrey before he excused himself. There was something about the Hospital Wing that made Siria tired. She supposed it was how often she actually slept restfully that the simple act of being there was enough to make the room sway. Without changing, she curled beneath the blanket and was half asleep by the time the door locked.  
She managed to mutter about Hermione and Ron. Madam Pomfrey placed Siria’s glasses on the bedside table. “Don’t worry, they’ll know,” she closed the curtains around Siria’s bed. “Oh, what you put yourself through…” was the last thing Siria heard before the world went dark and night silent.


	26. The Second Task

**The Second Task**   


Friday morning, Siria put on her aquatard, contacts, and hung her goggles around her neck. She could barely hear Parvati and Lavender over the deafening explosions in her chest. Someone had replaced her heart with fireworks. Fay extended a belt covered in zipper pouches and Siria stared absently at it.  
“But where’s Hermione?” Siria repeated. “She was supposed to meet me here.”  
“Haven’t you been listening?” Lavender rolled her eyes, “she stayed out last night, probably with Viktor.” Lavender broke into another fit of giggles.  
“She’s probably just down in the Great Hall or already at the Lake,” Fay said as she dropped the belt into Siria’s lap.  
“But—” she tried to argue. There was no way Hermione would break her word. “I don’t know if I can do this.” Siria confessed. Parvati tugged unnecessarily hard on Siria’s hair and tsked.  
“What are we?” Parvati asked.  
“I just— Hermione,” Siria groaned and pressed her forehead to her knees. Siria spared a look to her watch. For a moment, the fireworks paused because at least Sirius was there.  
Where exactly “there” was, Siria didn’t know. At the edge of the Lake, with the other Champions, Siria shook from the weather or her nerves. Ron and Neville hadn’t seen Hermione either, and no one had seen Sirius. Remus tied what looked like a black beach ball around Siria, as he had done with the other Champions. It floated beside Siria. Remus patted her shoulder and whispered “Sirius and Hermione are here,” as he pretended to be double checking the leather like rope that bound her to the beach ball.  
Warrington fiddled with his wrist like he was adjusting an invisible sleeve. “It’s fine,” Siria heard him say before he focused on the water. Siria’s eyes flickered to the water. Her watch and Remus both said Sirius was here, so Sirius had to be. Fireworks continued to shake her core and turn her stomach. Siria’s eyes flickered from the water, to the stands, where she could make out Ron and the other Weasleys from their red hair, but no bushy brown.  
At the judges’ table, Bagman amplified his voice (B4, 293). Siria pulled her goggles over her eyes. Warrington nodded to her as he pulled out a Draught. Siria nodded back while she tossed her robes off and emptied one of the belt’s pockets into her hand. She shoved the gillyweed into her mouth while Warrington chugged down his Draught and Bagman addressed the audience. “The Champions will have one hour, from when I blow the whistle, to recover what’s been taken. One the count of three, then.” (B4, 493). Siria swallowed the gillyweed and looked to Warrington, who was paler than she had ever seen him. He was focused on the water as Bagman counted down.  
On “three” Siria cannonballed herself into the water. There was no sound in the freezing waters. Siria curled herself into a ball and coughed as she tried to breathe. Her body shivered as she tried to rise back up. Then the gills formed and the water felt pleasantly cool (B4, 495). Siria gasped for air through her gills. The black, beach ball like device provided a shadowy light around Siria. She pointed her want toward the surface and “Aguamenti!” As when she practiced, a large bubble came out of her mouth instead of sound, but the spell did as she wanted. A jet of water erupted from Siria’s wand and sent her deeper into the lake.  
She sent herself, burst by burst, further into the depths of the lake. Siria gasped as something yanked her into tall, yellow weeds by her ankle (B4, 495). A grindylow hissed and bared its fangs from the weeds (B4, 495). “Stupefy!” Siria cried, but a bubble escaped her lips instead. Another grindylow grabbed onto her. She tightened her grip on her wand and squeezed her eyes shut.  
Travers’s words echoed in Siria’s panicked mind: say it with your heart. She could clearly see the electric blue painted nails, with ribbons of smoke like white, rest on Travers’s chest. Hermione argued “Siria ought to be casting it with her mind.” Patricia had laughed and told them Siria should be casting with both.  
Siria’s eyes bolted open as two other grindylow grabbed her other leg. She pointed her wand at the first set and focused, more than she had ever done— more than on any of the logic puzzles Sirius had given her, more than on homework, more than she did when she summoned her Firebolt— on “Relashio!” Both the grindylow on her left leg let go and were knocked away. Siria pointed to the others. In her excitement, she said “Relashio!” which released a bubble from her mouth, but blasted a jet of boiling water from her wand (B4 494). The other two grindylow recoiled. Siria kept her wand on them “Aguamenti!” and fired herself away from them.  
On the other side of the weeds, she fired herself toward downward until she was nearly at the bottom of the Lake and found, with the gillyweed, she could swim faster than she could run. The strange, black beach ball like orb continued to float and emit a dark light. Siria figured, as Remus had worked on them, they were some sort of safety measure. She looked to her watch and her heart skipped— more than half her time was gone and she felt no where near closer to finding the merpeople or what they took.  
She unzipped one of the pockets of the belt and pulled out a small handful of gillyweed. Siria shivered in revolution at having to chew the gillyweed under water. It felt extra slimy and almost alive as it wriggled down her throat. Even if she couldn’t find whatever was taken in the time limit, she wasn’t coming up without it. Siria reasoned that getting the item late was better than not at all.  
Moaning Myrtle told Siria that if she just swam toward the bottom and middle of the Lake, she would eventually reach the merpeople. Further and further she swam, with glance after glance to her watch. More than the time, she wanted to know where Sirius was. Was he watching with Hagrid? Were they routing for her with the others? With the dark, illuminated beach ball and her wand as her light, Siria shook the doubts and questions from her mind and continued further into the Lake.  
[Book: B4, 497-498 Siria hears them singing and finds the stone dwellings of the merpeople, with a choir singing their town square, and the gigantic merperson statue]

“DAD!” Siria gasped, but only a large bubble escaped her. Tied to the tail of the massive, stone merperson were three people and a large, black, shaggy dog. Faster than Siria thought she could have, she swam to Snuffles. Trails of bubbles escaped him and the others, who all appeared fast asleep (B4, 498). Siria swam to Hermione and felt her pulse; it was slow, but steady and she didn’t appear hurt. The person floating beside Hermione was a tall, broad shouldered woman that had to be Warrington’s mother. She was next to a child with silvery hair that was most likely Fleur Delacour’s sister (B4, 498).  
From another zipper in her belt of pockets, Siria pulled out Sirius’s knife. With her wand between her teeth and the knife in hand, she sliced the rope that bound Snuffles to the statue and secured it to the black beach ball. If it was a safety precaution, Sirius would be fine. She looked to her watch— there were fifteen minutes. Her green eyes scanned the water, but she didn’t see another champion. A merperson with a spear pointed their weapon at Siria “Your task is to retrieve your own,” they told her (B4, 499). She returned the knife to her pocket and shook her head.   
Siria took Hermione’s hand and treaded between her and Mrs. Warrington. “If nothing else, Sirius can swim,” Siria reasoned. “He can take Fleur’s sister. Hermione can eat some gillyweed and we’ll get Mrs. Warrington out together.” She nodded to herself and tightened her grip on her wand. It would work. It had to work or the others would come.  
A few of the merpeople with spears glared at Siria while she hovered beside Hermione. She glared back, but wasn’t sure they could see it with her bulky goggles on. Ten more minutes went by in silent panic without any sign of another champion. Would Dumbledore really let the merpeople keep the others? “Of course not,” Siria shook her head, “but he doesn’t exactly make the rules.” Her heart sank into her stomach. Siria circled the three, still tied to the statue and worried.   
Ron and Siria agreed that Ludo Bagman wasn’t all together, but, surely he wouldn’t let people lose their loved ones? Barty Crouch was very strict though. She bit her lip and returned to Hermione’s side. No one would be losing anyone today, Siria decided as she caught the sickly pale face of Fleur’s sister. “Five minutes,” winced with her hand over her watch and looked to the darkness around her. “They’re just out of sight,” Siria told herself and nodded. The merperson who told her to leave had watched her closely. Unless the merpeople tried to fight her, Siria would give the other champions five minutes to rescue their person. “They’ll be more thankful their person is safe than upset about the points, right?” she wondered.  
Something mostly clear and viney smacked into Siria’s chest. She reflexively tried to catch it, but it wrapped around her. The strangely slimy, but smooth texture was unmistakable and Siria tickled the tangle of Giggle Kelp until it released her. Warrington had launched several tangles of the Giggle Kelp as a distraction, to reach his mother. He elbowed Siria in the side and extended his hand. She handed him Sirius’s knife, which he used to cut his mother free.  
Warrington pointed up and mouthed “Go!” Siria gestured to Hermione and Fleur’s sister. He shook his head and pointed into the darkness. She squinted beneath her goggles, but saw no one coming. Warrington sighed and bubbles rolled from his mouth. Siria linked her arm with Hermione’s, as they often did when they walked, and held out her other for her knife. She would need it. Warrington pointed, again, to what Siria couldn’t see. “They’re coming!” He mouthed as more bubbles came out and he slammed the knife into her hand. Siria looked to her watch, there was only a minute left. She shook her head and held Hermione’s arm tighter. Siria pointed to Warrington then the surface “You go.” He tsked, but Warrington secured his mother to him and pointed his wand at the surface.  
Before he was out of sight, time was up and so was Warrington’s distraction. The Giggle Kelp shot to the surface, covered with the bubbles of its laughter. Two merpeople yanked Siria, who held Hermione tighter. Siria took hold of her belt with the hand of the arm linked to Hermione. She gritted her teeth together and fought to break free, but they had four arms on her single one. In an instant, Siria’s own arm smacked her in the face. The merpeople let go to scatter. Siria pulled Hermione and Fleur’s sister by their ropes as a shark sped toward them.  
“No!” Siria shook her head and cut Hermione and Fleur’s sister from the statue. Hagrid never said anything about sharks. Nearly two months of classes on what lives in the Lake and he said absolutely nothing about sharks— Siria would know; she read all of Hermione’s notes on his lessons, even when Hagrid repeated things. The shark circled and Siria gasped.  
While the head was unmistakably a shark, much of the rest was not. Siria could see why Cedric was against Siria or Warrington trying to Transfigure themselves. Krum had mostly human arms, but they were flat and grey. In place of his legs were two halves of a tail. Siria tied a loop into Hermione’s loop and extended it. He slid one not fully finned arm through the loop and took off with Hermione.  
An hour and seven minutes had passed. Siria gave one last glance for Fleur, but there was no sign of her silver hair. The merpeople closed in around Siria, who was tied down with with Sirius tied to the ball, which was tied to her. Siria tucked her arm under Fleur’s sister’s arm and waved her wand at the merpeople before her. They stopped their advance and some even backed up. Siria leaned toward a spot of three that backed away, who jerked further back. As far as they knew, she could cast silently.  
Through her gills, she took a deep breath that filled her with cool and calm. Siria pointed her wand to the surface and closed her eyes. She pictured the tip of her wand acting like a magnet to the surface of the Lake. Siria pushed away concerns for Fleur’s points, or guilt that Fleur might be just a minute away, and worry she had completely blown the second task for taking more than Sirius. “Ascendio!”  
It was similar to a Portkey in that Siria felt she had been hooked then hurled around. Siria looked down and saw the merpeople close behind. The ones who did not back up were intent on keeping their word. Siria kicked with all her might with her still webbed feet. She kept her wand as upright as she could while her legs flailed under her. “If I can just make it,” she told herself. Dumbledore wouldn’t let them be taken back under.  
When they reached the surface, it felt like someone pulled a plastic bag over Siria’s face. She had taken her gillyweed a little later than she needed. Siria ducked her head and under and swam toward Dumbledore the other students. Snuffles swam under Fleur’s sister’s other arm and helped Siria swim to the bank. Fleur ran into the water to help pull her sister out. Snuffles rushed Remus, while Siria flattened herself in the shallows of the bank and wondered if the merpeople came up to say she threatened them.  
Snuffles dipped a draught into the water and let it bump into Siria’s head. She took the draught and, with her gills still underwater, drank it. Siria hacked and gagged and wheezed as she downed the draught. It felt like she was drinking through her nose. Then, at the bottle of the bottle, Siria bolted upright and gasped for air. “Good— good boy,” she told Snuffles as she pet him with one hand and rubbed her gill-free neck with her other, before she took off her goggles and took her glasses from Snuffles’s collar.  
[Book: B4, 504-505 Dumbledore talks with the merpeople. Madam Pomfrey fusses over Siria and gives her a Pepperup potion that warms her up. Hermione praises Siria, which causes Krum to try and catch Hermione’s attention with the fact there’s a beetle in Hermione’s hair, but she wants to talk to her friend]

“I can’t believe you thought it was real!” Hermione groaned at Siria and pulled the beetle from her hair. “Of course they wouldn’t keep someone,” Hermione shook her head. She didn’t seem to notice she was crushing the beetle.  
“Tell that to Fleur!” Siria jerked her head to Fleur, who was practically hysterical as she fussed over her sister. It was like watching Aunt Petunia fuss over Dudley when he tripped as a child: a series of kisses in which she was glued to him and asked how she could make it better.  
“Siria, I’m serious,” Hermione looked into Siria’s eyes. Siria cracked a smile and looked to Snuffles. Hermione replied in a silent, stern expression while Snuggles wagged his tail. He bumped Hermione’s hand and she released the beetle. True to his act of dog, Sirius chased after the beetle and snapped at it.  
“Look, I get it. I’m an idiot—” Siria began, but Hermione shook her head and hugged Siria.  
“You aren’t an idiot, just a fool.” Hermione smiled and rested her head on Siria’s shoulder.  
“You’re what Krum would miss most” Siria whispered into Hermione’s ear. She punched Siria’s arm. “What?” Siria asked, but her wide grin gave her away.  
“You’re ridiculous,” Hermione shook her head. Even though she turned away, she couldn’t hide the blush that went as far as her ears.  
[Book: B4, 505-506 Fleur Delacour thanks Siria for saving Gabrielle and even kisses Siria on the cheek. Then it’s time to get their scores. Fleur 25, Warrington 47, Krum 40. Bagman explains what everyone used]

“Ms. Potter returned last, but, as we saw, Ms. Potter was the first to reach the hostages.” Bagman said (B4, 507)  
“As who saw how?” Siria whispered to Hermione, who pointed to the black beach balls, which Madam Pomfrey had untied when she gave Siria the Pepperup Potion. “They saw?” Siria’s jaw dropped and she looked back to Bagman. Everyone saw her make a fool of herself by believing people would be lost forever.  
[Book: B4, 507-508 Bagman says that most of the judges (all except Karkaroff) felt it showed her moral fiber & merited full marks. Siria 45 points. Krum tries to get Hermione’s attention, but Siria just ranked second and is tied with Warrington for first. They’re told the 3rd & final task will be June 20th at dusk. 1 month before, they’ll learn what it will be. Madam Pomfrey is going to nurse them a little more, but Siria doesn’t have anything else to worry about another task for months]


	27. The History of Mr. Crouch

**The History of Mr. Crouch**   


The black, glowing, floating beach balls were in fact magical monitoring devices, which had broadcast their surroundings on the surface of giant mirrors. Hagrid had cheered louder than anyone when Siria reached the hostages first. Ron told Siria that, when Fleur returned to the surface because of the grindylows, she had screamed and shouted for Siria to bring Gabrielle— in between shouts at Madame Maxime to let her return to the water. He told her all about how furious Karkaroff was that Siria reached the hostages first. “So, of course he’s the one who put your name in,” Ron added, though Hermione still wasn’t convinced.  
Remus and Sirius worked for weeks on the devices, which they named “Stargazers.” “Because they watch you,” Sirius had told her with a huge, dorky grin on his face. She supposed anything else would have been out of character for the man that sent her Knock, Knock Howlers for a year. Siria was ultimately thankful for the Stargazers because it meant everyone had already seen for themselves what happened and wouldn’t need her to explain.  
“But why Snuffles?” Siria asked Sirius’s crackling head in the fireplace of the Gryffindor common room.  
“Well, I can’t swim.” Sirius confessed. Ron laughed, but Hermione didn’t seem to approve. She pressed her lips together and looked firmly at her page. “Besides,” Sirius smiled at them, “Chloe needed a hand and ‘Sirius Black’ was expected elsewhere.”  
“You didn’t!” Siria gasped with an eager grin.  
“I may or may not have talked someone into taking a little Polyjuice,” he chuckled.  
“That’s brilliant!” Ron laughed with Siria. Hermione tutted. She had been in a rather poor mood this week, with so many people teasing her about being what Viktor Krum would miss most.  
“Anyways, dad, it’s getting late,” Siria raised her watch, as if she were looking at it, but gestured with her eyes to Hermione. “We’ll see you Saturday anyway.” Sirius’s flamed face nodded.  
“You know, you ought to look in a mirror sometime,” he winked. “Good night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” He told them and disappeared.  
“That’s a very short list,” Hermione snapped. Siria felt that Ron had taken things better than Hermione. It was mostly Draco Malfoy and occasionally Pansy Parkinson, but Ron had gotten a lot of calls like “How’s it feel to know you won’t be missed as much as a dog?” Siria was thankful Ron knew Sirius was Snuffles because he could retort with things like “You’d miss Snuffles more too!” as if he didn’t care.  
Hermione resigned herself to blushing furiously. She and Siria now only used Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and the Room of Requirement. Myrtle seemed a little less depressed with the company. Hermione had cast Lightening Charms on their bags, so they could climb up and down the stairs without the weight of their books as they rushed to or from the washroom.  
After the talk with Sirius and promise of seeing him at Hogsmeade the next day,  
Friday Double Potions seemed a lot less terrible an idea than usual. From the laughter that roared from Pansy Parkinson and her collective of Slytherin girls, Siria realized she was mistaken and it would be the usual levels of terrible— or worse.  
[Book: B4, 511 Pansy gives them the Witch Weekly and they enter the class. Hermione finds the article “Siria Potter’s Secret Heartache”]  
“Where can I issue a very loud and obnoxious announcement that it’s Potter-Black?” Siria snapped through sealed teeth. Hermione dismissed her and they continued through. After some surprising “poor Potter, her life has been tragic” sentences, Siria elbowed Hermione. “Why didn’t you tell me we were going steady?” She grinned.

Where we had thought Siria Potter had finally found love  
in steady boyfriend, Ronald Weasley, he was in fact her “beard”  
(a term used by kids these days for when a homosexual pretends   
to be a heterosexual). She had been dating the believed temptress,  
Hermione Granger— a rather plain, Muggle-Born.  


[Book: B4,512 Krum invited Hermione over for summer. Pansy called Hermione ugly & accused Hermione of brewing a Love Potion. Rita says Dumbledore should investigate, and Rita continues that Siria will put her heart into a worthier candidate]

Siria clenched her nails into her palms, but smiled as best she could. Ron had not been her “beard” and Siria didn’t even know of anyone that used that term. She had very clearly stated she was bi. More than anything though, Siria was furious more people had access to Rita Skeeter’s article than the Herald. Countless readers would think Hermione was some rotten, Love Potion making, fame chasing deviant than what Hermione really was.  
Ron had taken a different angle than Siria’s fury and had gone immediately for “I told you!” (B4, 513).  
[Book: B4, 513-515 Hermione wonders how Rita Skeeter could have known that Hermione WAS invited to Krum’s over summer and that he did say he’s never felt the way he does about Hermione. Snape takes the magazine and reads the article aloud, with a pause after every sentence]

With her head held in proud defiance, as Sirius’s would have been, Siria smiled. It didn’t matter if the Slytherins’ laughter howled through the dungeon like a plane about to take off. It didn’t matter that it sounded worse when Snape read it aloud than when they had silently. Siria swallowed. What mattered was their plan. Hermione had gotten heaps of letters to support Hagrid— Siria would do better.  
[Book: B4, 515-519 Snape separates them & tells Siria he isn’t impressed, she doesn’t fool him, and she’s just a nasty little girl that thinks rules are beneath her. He accuses her of breaking into his office then threatens to put Veritaserum, Truth Potion, into her drink. Karkaroff comes in, insists he needs to talk with Snape. Near end of lesson, Siria makes a mess, so she can stay and clean up. She knows Karkaroff shows Snape something on his arm and, whatever it is, it’s getting clearer. Siria then quickly bolts after Karkaroff, so she isn’t alone with Snape]

Where the Three Broomsticks was usually lively and crowded, the Hog’s Head was quiet. Whatever it had looked like when it opened, none of them could have guessed with the stains and fine layer of grime that coated most of the bar. The Wizards’ Chest set, beside the far window, seemed to be the only thing that got cleaned. A pair of hooded figures sat in one corner of the bar while a bandaged man nursed a mug of what looked like tiger lily petals.  
At the bar, Remus, Sirius, and the bartender made up half the bar’s total occupants, until the students arrived. Siria rushed to take the seat beside Sirius, which, in her effort to fend of George, resulted in her falling off. George reached to catch her, but she caught herself on Sirius and George. “This is why I didn’t want you to come!” Siria snapped at George as dusted herself off. Fred and George were all too eager to see Sirius and Remus to talk products in person, despite the fact they got to speak with Sirius at the fire more than Siria did. George patted on Siria’s seat to offer it to her as an apology. She pulled it from him and placed it against Sirius’s before she took her seat.  
Fred patted the stool beside Siria, for Hermione, who rolled her eyes, but sat down beside Siria. “Don’t be like that,” George smiled as he sat down beside Remus.  
“We love you’re old man too,” Fred grinned and sat beside George. Lee Jordan took the stool beside Fred while and Neville sat next to Hermione. The lot of them took up all but one stool at the bar.  
“He isn’t old!” Siria leaned around Sirius to glare, but he father leaned in her way.  
“It’s fine, Siria,” he assured her as he slid some money to the white haired bartender. “Seven, Abe.”  
“But you get so offended when I call you ‘old’,” Siria argued.  
“He likes us more,” George winked. Hermione tugged on Siria’s arm.  
“Fine,” Siria grumbled to Hermione and turned away from George.  
When the bartender handed out their drinks, Siria thought there was something familiar about the twinkle in his blue eyes, but he turned from her too quickly for her place it. Though the mug was a little grimey, the Butterbeer tasted as it did from the Three Broomsticks. Once the twins and Lee Jordan were absorbed with Remus, Sirius lowered his voice to Siria. “Now, you said Bagman keeps offering you a hand, but what about Crouch?” Sirius asked. Siria shook her head in reply.  
“He hasn’t been around to help,” Siria noted.  
“But he has to snoop.” Hermione clicked her tongue at Crouch.  
Hermione and Siria told Sirius of when they saw Crouch on the Marauder's Map. Siria added that Moody searched Snape’s office and that he had the Map now. “Hm,” Sirius drummed his fingers on the bar. “While I’m not keen on someone else having the Map, at least it’s Moody.”  
[Book: B4, 522-533 Sirius says Moody probably searched all the teachers’ offices. They learn that Crouch was almost Minister, but he sent his own son to Azkaban & it left people asking questions and wondering if he was really right for the job, especially after his son died, followed quickly by his wife; it’s likely Neville’s wand was taken when they were in the Top Box. Sirius tells them that the Bertha Jorkins he knew had a great memory, especially for gossip.]  
George leaned onto the bar and looked to Siria. “Potter-Black, aren’t you seeing your pa’ over summer?” he asked. She leaned onto the bar as well and rested her face in her hands.  
“Weasley, aren’t you seeing my pa over summer?”  
“Wait,” Fred said as he and George looked to Sirius.  
“You were serious?” George asked.  
“You both sounded excited over summer,” Remus reminded them.  
“But that was before.” Fred said.  
“We’ve got so much to do,” George added.  
“Couldn’t possible be in an office all day.” Fred agreed.  
While Fred and George argued they couldn’t possibly work at Moony & Padfoot over summer, Sirius returned his attention to Siria. “Speaking of summer, I’ve managed to talk Mrs. Creevey down to two days.” Sirius told her. “I am a little worried she won’t let you return though,” he joked.  
“Can’t Colin and Dennis come over instead?” Siria asked.  
“They will. I’ll drop you off on a Thursday evening, pick you and the boys up Saturday night, and we’ll all so Sunday dinner at the Weasley’s. Honestly, I think Molly is really the one who talked her down.” Sirius ruffled Siria’s wild hair. “There’ll still be plenty of work and fun, I promise.”  
On their way back to the castle, Remus and Sirius were monopolized by Fred, George, and Lee Jordan until the very end. Hermione and Siria walked arm in arm, which caught more than a few glances from other Hogsmeade goers. At the edge of the grounds, Siria let go of Hermione to pull Sirius to the side. “There’s something that’s been bothering me all day,” Siria confessed. “Rita Skeeter,”  
“Oh, no.” Sirius shook his head “What did the manticore do now?”  
“It’s kind of an accumulation at this point, but her Witch Weekly article could get Hermione way more hate mail and it isn’t really fair.” Siria told him.  
“Siria, my dear, nothing is fair and—” but he stopped as she shook her head.  
“I want to find a way for the Hogwarts Herald to reach more people. To send it to parents, at the very least. Maybe get a few copies into Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley.” Siria said. “It isn’t fair that people only read what Rita wants and don’t get to know Hermione.”  
Sirius placed his warm hand on Siria’s head and smiled at her. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have let you finish. It’s a great idea to get the Herald to more people and we’ll make that happen. Now, let me see your compact.”  
“My compact?” Siria asked, but withdrew a small compact from her pocket, which Sirius picked up.  
“This isn’t the one I gave you.”  
“Chloe gave it to me— Hermione’s got a matching one,” Siria smiled. “I’ve got yours still. It’s just on my desk.” Sirius sighed and handed Siria back the night sky themed compact.  
“When you get back to the dorm, open the compact for me, okay?” He requested as she zipped the compact back into her jacket pocket.  
Inside the compact with the changed Black Family Crest, was “Dad?” Siria asked at the small, reflection of Sirius where the mirror would be.  
“Finally!” he said and she watched him shake is head in disbelief. “Your sense of justice is boundless, but your lack curiosity leaves me worried sometimes.”  
“It’s a compact!” Siria exclaimed. “Excuse me for thinking my compact was a mirror and not a magic phone— why didn’t you just tell me?”  
“Think of how much more excited you would have been to realize on your own, though.”  
“This is like Moony & Padfoot all over.” Siria told him. “Please, dad— just tell me things.”  
“Okay, but you aren’t going to like it,” Sirius shook his finger.  
“What?”  
“You need a leaf.”  
Siria sighed and looked around the Potion brewing room of her trunk, to the shelf with the mandrake leaf jar. Her mouth dried at the thought of the bitter, ginger like taste of her future. When she could finally transform, it would be worth it… she hoped.


	28. Magic Theory

**Magic Theory**   


Monday Morning came with a surprise. Where Hermione normally received an owl or two with a newspaper, ten swarmed the table and pushed to get their letter to her first. Ron and Siria snatched a few of the letters, to help clear the table. Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott, who had sat at the Hufflepuff table and even with Ron and Siria, came over to help with the owls. “Aren’t Herald letters supposed to go to the bin?” Ernie asked as he handed Siria the letters he had grabbed.  
“They’re not Herald letters at all— they’re trash,” Hermione said and slid a letter over to Siria.  
[Book: B4, 541 Hermione receives hate mail because of Rita Skeeter’s article. There’s one made of cut out letters from the Daily Prophet]  
Ernie, Hannah, Hermione, Ron, and Siria ripped open the other letters, which was a mistake. One of the envelopes turned out to be full of bubotuber pus; it poured on Siria’s hand, which erupted into yellow boils (B4, 541). Siria shook her other arm from her robes. She wrapped her pus covered hand and the letter in a bundle of her robes. “Don’t open anymore!” Siria told them with a strained tone. “Hospital Wing,” she winced at them and rushed from the Great Hall.  
Madam Pomfrey dunked Siria’s hand into a bucket of what looked like oil and flowers, but smelt like burnt cookies. The flower like plants drained the boils on Siria’s hand while Madam Pomfrey explained how Siria would need to care for it. She placed the murtlap essence would help, but to use it sparingly. “A few drops in a bowl of water or to a wet rag when you clean it,” she told Siria. “Really, Potter-Black. What did you do?”  
“I opened Hermione’s hate mail.”  
“Hate mail?” Madam Pomfrey gasped. “From Hermione?”  
“No. For Hermione.” Siria sighed at her arm as Madam Pomfrey bandaged it up. While the pus didn’t spread far, when it was tangled in her robe, it traveled up to just below her elbow.  
“Rita Skeeter,” Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “Don’t open anymore of it— and don’t let Hermione either.”  
Care of Magical Creatures was nearly over when Siria finally made her way across the grounds. Siria had rushed to Gryffindor Tower for a clean robe. Her face was still flush with the exercise as she reached Hagrid’s hut. “What’s wrong, Potter?” Pansy Parkinson barked. “Too heartbroken?”  
“Hey,” Siria smirked at her as she shoved her bandaged arm deep into the pockets of her robe. “I’d rather be dumped for Krum, who can at least fly, than a talentless gossip—like you.” Siria quickened her pace before Pansy could find a good reply, and took her place with Hermione and Ron, beside Hagrid.  
[Book: B4, 544-546 The lesson was on nifflers, which are great little treasure finders and diggers, but also will wreck stuff and try to steal your watch. Hagrid says he also got hate mail and Hermione should chuck her letters right into the fire. Hermione swears she’s going to get Rita Skeeter back]

Hate mail continued to arrive for Hermione, and she followed Hagrid’s advice; some over her anti-admirers sent Howlers (B4, 546). She tried to stop Siria, but was too slow. Siria swept the Howlers into her arms and ran out onto the grounds. There, she conjured Fiendfyre. Her extra lessons with Dumbledore and Warrington had drastically improved her control and Siria managed to summon a small, though rather vicious dog that went wild as it ripped up the Howlers. After the second day, Hermione, Ron, and Siria tossed the Howlers to the Fiendfyre, which left the letters melted to dust, as if they’d never existed. It seemed to cheer Hermione up some.  
[Book: B4, 547 Hermione asks Moody if he’s seen Rita, but he hasn’t, so she isn’t using an Invisibility Cloak]  
“What if she bugged you with magic?” Siria asked (B4, 547)  
“That has to be illegal then,” Hermione pressed her fist to her lips and grinned. “I’m going to get her.” She promised.  
“Sirius is already working on getting the Herald to more people,” Ron told her. Siria shook her head.  
“It’s not enough.” Siria said.  
“That’s just the start.” Hermione agreed.

Goblets rattled as they appeared on the materialized shelves in the Room of Requirement. It was goblets wanted to dodge the spells that ricocheted around in flashes of violet, red, and yellow. Hermione was the first to notice the shelves and goblets that continued to appear in the Room. She finished her homework first and was reading books on magical methods of eavesdropping, to figure out how Rita Skeeter had been listening, when the first shelf of goblets appeared beside her.  
They rattled loudly as cracks started to form. Hermione slammed her book shut “Stop!” She shouted. Siria jerked her head to see Hermione and knocked backward by Patricia, who stepped up to block Warrington’s hex. When Siria fell to the floor, the goblets stopped. Before their eyes, the goblets and shelves fuzed back into the room, as if they were never there, except for one. Patricia pulled Siria back to her feet.  
“What about them?” Siria asked and looked to Hermione, who lifted the goblet that remained.  
“You haven’t seemed to notice, but you two practice like you’re trying to kill each other and the Room does that—” Hermione waived to where the shelf of goblets had been. “I think it knows you’re doing accidental magic.” Siria and Warrington looked to each other. He put his wand away and Siria wagged hers at Hermione.  
“It’s not accidental, Hermione. We’re using wands,” Siria noted. Hermione raised the goblet, which had cracked. “Oh…” Siria put her wand back into her jacket.  
“They obviously aren’t trying to kill each other, but it’s good to practice like it.” Maddy argued. “Even more so if P.B. is doing accidental magic— she’s got to get that under wraps before the final task.”  
“One year, the champions dueled a Grandmaster Duelist, Anne Damer.” Patricia told them.  
“The sculptor?” Cedric asked.  
“The lesbian.” Maddy winked to Patricia.  
“They’re the same person.” Patricia sighed.  
“But if they already did it, they won’t do it again,” Siria interrupted. “I’m not practicing to win the Triwizard Tournament. I’m practicing so I can help when Tom Riddle returns.” She looked to Ron and Neville, who had been practicing opposite Siria and Warrington. Neville’s expression was even more determined than Ron’s, who Siria knew would follow her through a trapdoor and sacrifice himself to stop Voldemort’s return.  
“P.B.” Travers sighed and shook her head. “You talk like the Dark Lord is about to storm Hogwarts. He’s gone.”  
“He isn’t.” Cedric told Travers with such conviction, that it gave even Siria pause. “You were at the World Cup, weren’t you?” He asked. His fists were clenched on the table, and Cedric’s tone was firm. Travers batted the air like she was knocking the idea away from her.  
“So some Death Eaters got drunk and had their idea of fun,” she dismissed.  
“Alice,” Maddy tsked, “what if they decided to have that ‘fun’ with Hermione? You know Muggle-borns are the same as Muggles to them.”  
“But it wasn’t with Hermione and the Muggles were fine. You-Know-Who wasn’t even there.”  
Cedric kept his gaze on Travers, even when Warrington placed his hand on Travers’s shoulder. “Even if You-Know-Who wasn’t there, what if a new one comes?” Warrington asked. He gave Travers’s shoulder a tight squeeze. “We know he still has supporters and don’t know there isn’t one somewhere preparing to take his place. Ekrizdis, Grindelwald…” Warrington looked to Diggory. “Their ideals aren’t dead.”  
Siria sighed and sat down. Hermione sat beside her and placed her head on Siria’s shoulder. They and Ron knew about Siria’s summer dream of Wormtail, the old man, and the creature in the chair. Ron had heard about the spells and running around that happened over summer to prepare. If Sirius, Remus, and Dumbledore thought Tom Riddle would make a comeback, then it was as good as upon them in Siria’s mind.  
The rest of the night was spent in small groups or pairs on research or homework. Hermione and Cedric formatted the Hogwarts Herald’s web layout. Remus and Sirius had reached out to Sirius’s fellow disowned Black, Andromeda. With Andromeda and her Muggleborn husband’s help, the four managed to create website for the Hogwarts Herald. Neither Hermione nor Cedric understood how exactly it worked, but it meant Muggle parents could view the Hogwarts Herald. According to Sirius, anyone that wasn’t supposed to see the site, would instead see the driest articles they had ever read.  
Combined with the fact Magical parents were mailed the Hogwarts Herald, Hermione’s hate mail stack plummeted. Rita Skeeter, from what Hermione had found, had not written anything in weeks. “But she’s probably just looking for something huge now,” Hermione told Siria. It meant that they only talked about things in the Room of Requirement, Myrtle’s bathroom, or inside Gryffindor Tower. They were also secretive about the Hogwarts Herald and bewitched unfinished pieces to look like class notes to anyone that wasn’t meant to read them.  
In addition to her other duties and work, Hermione managed to find time to visit the house elves and see how they were transitioning. Sunday afternoon, Hermione, Ron, and Siria went to the kitchens after Professor Vector shooed them from the dungeons. Astoria, Colin, and Dennis, tagged along. Winky, Hermione’s real reason for visiting on this particular Sunday, was cleaning the fireplace.  
“Winky’s no time to be unhappy when there is working to do, Miss.” Winky told Hermione. “Winky is sorry for being so awful when Miss was here last.” The house elf said, without turning from her work. Siria herded Astoria, Colin, and Dennis to the table that went to Gryffindor Table. Ron joined them and asked if they had anymore eclairs (B4, 535).  
“Before supper?” Astoria asked and looked to the large platter. Her large, bright eyes turned to Siria as Colin and Dennis each took an eclair. She silently asked “May I have one?” Siria pushed the tray closer to Astoria, who lit her face with a smile and bit in without another question.  
“You’re eating?” Hermione asked when she returned to them. She gave the almost empty tray of eclairs a look of disapproval. “It’s almost dinner.”  
“If you’ve come to judge, you can leave.” Ron said. Hermione crossed her arms.  
“Winky doesn’t know anything—” Hermione sat beside Siria and raised up the last eclair, as it to toast to peace. “She is now very worried because she did more than his housework and kept ‘Mr. Crouch’s most important secret’, which is rubbish because everyone knows he’s a good-for-nothing, family abandoning, slave driver.” Hermione glared at the eclair as she ate it.  
“Well, maybe Percy will know something,” Siria suggested and looked to Ron. “Any chance you’d be willing to write your brother?”  
“What’s wrong with Mr. Crouch?” Astoria asked.  
“He’s been missing for months!” Colin said ,as if he was talking about a festival.  
“Isn’t someone else from the Ministry missing?”  
“That’s why it’s such a big deal!” Dennis said. Hermione opened her mouth to argue or add, but resigned herself to finishing the eclair in silence.  
After dinner, Siria took Colin and Dennis to the Room of Requirement. Warrington was there, with Marcus Flint. Flint was the trollish captain of the Slytherin Quidditch Team. Siria slammed the door behind the Creevey brothers. “Flint!” She shouted and gestured to the tall, brood, glaring boy.  
“What’s it to you?” Flint asked and slid an arm behind his back.  
“Seriously?” Siria asked Warrington, as she pointed at Flint like he were giant slug.  
“I needed Potion ingredients,” Warrington nodded to the shelf of jars, vials, and bottles while he stirred the cauldron.  
Flint and Siria glared at each other, so Colin and Dennis glared at Flint as well. “Even Madam Pomfrey can’t fix your face,” Siria said. She straightened herself as much as she could, like it would make her taller than him. Flint towered over her and didn’t reply.  
“It was a duel,” Warrington sighed and added a few drops of what looked like murtlap essence to the cauldron. Siria looked closer and smirked at the arm behind Flint’s back.  
“With a mug like yours, no one’ll even notice your tentacles,” Siria said.  
“What’s your problem, Potter-Black?” Flint barked and rose to his full height over her. She glared up at him.  
“My problem, Flint is punks that put hits on little girls!” She spat. Siria was so furious her ears rang.  
“You see a little girl anywhere?” Flint sneered and raised his arm and arm of tangled tentacles to gesture to the room.  
“I couldn’t walk to class without someone trying to hex me!” Siria stomped. She was so infuriated her ears rang. “Peter Pettigrew broke out of Azkaban, so I couldn’t go outside, but I wasn’t safe inside either!”  
“You should have stayed safe in your little dorm then,” Flint leaned into her face. Siria shook her head with rage and it sounded like the world shook with her.  
“Enough!” Warrington barked. “Flint, sit. Potter-Black, you’re doing it.” The way Warrington said “it” Siria knew meant that the ringing in her ears and rattling sounds were from the Room, or, rather, items in the room her magic affected. Siria scoffed, but turned to Colin and Dennis. She took the two copies of Helping Hands the Room provided and sat down at the newly appeared table with the Creevey brothers. “But I thought we were going to learn how to duel!” Dennis looked to Siria with large, pleading eyes.  
“Once you know how to take care of wounds, then you can learn how to duel. You have to know how to heal people before I show you how to help them.” Siria told the brothers. “Or you’ll end up like him.” Colin and Dennis stole another glance to Marcus Flint then opened their books.

“You’re giving us homework?” Dennis asked as he put a copy of Helping Hands into his bag.  
“You want to duel, don’t you?” Siria asked in reply. Colin and Dennis nodded. “The sooner you show me that you know the book, the sooner we move to dueling.”  
“Do we have to go?” Colin looked up to Siria. She looked to her watch and nodded.  
“It’s almost curfew and it isn’t safe for you when we practice.” She told them. Colin and Dennis sighed, but they hugged Siria before they left.  
“You spoil them.” Warrington told her while he bottled what was left of the Potion of Detentaclecation. Siria rolled her eyes and scanned the shelf of books closest to her. She stared at the books like she wanted one, but she just didn’t want to look at Warrington. “You don’t have to like Flint, but, at the end of the day, he’s my friend and will be around.” Siria scoffed and grabbed a book from the shelf, without looking at what it was. She moved along the shelves and continued to ignore him.  
Maddy was first to arrive. “I didn’t expect you both here… alone.” She looked at each of them. Warrington had settled at a cauldron near the door. He faced the door and had his back to  
the corner of the room Siria was in. Siria sat on a spot of cushioned floor with a pile of books worthy of Hermione, and several small trinkets around her. There was a book open on the floor and another in her lap, where she gestured with her left hand and held her wand in the air with the other.  
A small spindle of red thread hovered near the tip of Siria’s wand and, as if it were being pulled with the gentlest tug, slowly unraveled. The spindle rocked like it were on the corner of a table, prepared to fall. Siria continued to make the same gesture with her left hand, as if she ripping off invisible pieces of cotton candy, while she muttered. Siria’s top book was full of photos with moving hands that were accompanied by featural writing made of small circles, boxes, and lines. Open on the floor was a page of the small circles, boxes, and lines with Romanized characters beside them.  
When Siria leaned to squint at the book on the floor, her gesture changed from ripping cotton candy to lifting something. The thread on the spindle fired off and tangled in a massive heap. Siria leaned back and lost her focus further for the spindle clattered to the floor. She swept it up to throw it across the room. Maddy stopped it with her shoe and looked apologetically at Siria as she brought it back to her. She sat beside her.  
“You’re learning Hangul?” Maddy asked and picked up the book on the floor. “I’m impressed.” She patted Siria’s shoulder.  
“What?” Siria asked.  
“Hangul, the Korean writing system? If you want to learn Korean Magic, you’ll have to learn Korean. There’s no way around it.” Maddy pointed to the book in Siria’s lap, which she handed to her.  
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Hermione said that I should look at new magic, so,” Siria gestured to the books around them. About half of the spines had logograms on them, with a few rune covered ones. There was a book for each of the eleven noble and established wizarding schools, like Castelobruxo, Koldovstoretz, and the Uagadou School of Magic, along with a few  
notably less known, like Hwi-bin’s Fortress of Witchcraft and the Welsh School of Healing.  
“While I’m sure Hermione is glad you took her words to heart, but I’m not so sure this is what she meant.” Maddy confessed to Siria. “She probably wanted you to just learn some new spells or maybe even something like Occlumency.”  
“Maddy, I appreciate it, but Hermione’s exact words were ‘it’s so weird you still do accidental magic— most people stop after their first year. Maybe we should’...” Siria stopped and pulled a book into her lap, which she pulled close to her face.  
“Hermione told you to look at magic theory, didn’t she?” Maddy smiled. “Well, I think it’s great you’re looking at other magic. It’s cool that most places have different ways they use it.” She placed the books before Siria and picked up the one on Hwi-bin’s Fortress of Witchcraft, which she put on top.  
“My cousin goes there, so if you’ve got some questions, I can write her.” Maddy rose up and patted Siria on the shoulder. “Everyone’s got a different theory of magic. Even Beauxbatons and Durmstrang look at Magic Theory differently than Hogwarts, and we all use wands.” Maddy picked up a book on Charms and smiled at Siria. “Sometimes you just need a few different versions to find your own” Siria nodded and stuffed the book about Hwi-bin’s Fortress of Witchcraft into her bag before she hid her face back into the book on Ugandan Transfiguration. Siria peered over her book to the others in their stacks and wondered, “how could there be so many ways of doing the same thing?”


	29. The Madness of Mr. Crouch

**The Madness of Mr. Crouch**   


[Book: B4, 549-552 The Easter Holidays bring Percy’s reply, which says Mr. Crouch has been sending written instructions & not to bother him unless it’s important. In the last week of May, Bagman shows them the Quidditch field, which is growing into a maze. They learn Hagrid will provide creatures and there will be spells to break as well. Bagman tries to get a word with Siria, but Krum asks for a word as well. Siria tells Bagman to go on ahead.]  
Warrington arched an eyebrow at Siria in a silent “you okay?” She gave a small, forced smile and patted her wand, which lined her jacket, as usual. He gave a single nod in reply and headed back toward the castle. Krum led Siria further and further from the castle and the Quidditch field until they were at the edge of the grounds (B4, 552).  
“I vant to know,” Krum glowered, “vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny” (B4, 552). Siria blinked and stepped back. The surprise hit her like a stun to the chest. She opened and closed to mouth wordlessly until she asked, higher than she meant to, “What?”  
“I vant to know if you are dating Hermy-own-ninny,” Krum rephrased.  
“No— no, really,” Siria insisted at the persistent glower on Krum’s face. “Hermione’s my best friend and we don’t see each other like that.”  
“She talks about you very often,” Krum said (B4, 552).  
“Yeah. We’re in the same dorm, have almost all the same classes, and are best friends.”  
“So, you haff never…” Krum arched an eyebrow and Siria crossed her arms.  
“One of us has actually kissed Hermione, and it isn’t me,” she said. Krum nodded and seemed pleased.  
[Book: B4, 553-556 Krum compliments Siria on her flying and she does the same, then Mr. Crouch comes out of the forest. Mr. Crouch looks like he’s traveled for days, is ripped and bloodied, and he goes between saying he needs to talk with Dumbledore because he’s made a terrible mistake to thinking Percy is with them and that Mrs. Crouch & Jr are alive. Krum is super uncomfortable. Mr. Crouch pulls Siria to the ground when he thinks she’s leaving]  
“For the love of Merlin!” Siria cursed. She shoved her hand into her pocket, which was pressed to the ground while Mr. Crouch pinned her down. Siria yanked her Black Crested compact and opened it. “Sirius!” She shouted at her reflection. Siria flicked the compact opened and closed and shouted louder and louder for Sirius until his face looked back at her.  
“What’s wro— Is that Crouch?” Sirius asked and leaned into the mirror until only his eye was reflected.  
“We’re at the edge of the grounds and—” Siria started, but Crouch cried over her.  
“Bertha! It’s all my fault— my son!” Crouch sobbed (B4, 556).  
“PLEASE SEND HELP!” Siria called at the mirror as Krum tried to pull Mr. Crouch from Siria.  
Through the mirror, Siria heard Sirius call for Kreacher then promise to be there as soon as he could. Krum helped Siria off of the tground, while Mr. Crouch grabbed onto Siria’s jacket and nearly caused her knees to buckle. “Vat should ve do?” Krum asked as he stepped behind Siria to support her from under her arms and keep Mr. Crouch away from him.  
“Wait,” Siria sighed and kept the mirror on Mr. Crouch. “We obviously can’t leave him like this.  
“Siria Potter…” Mr. Crouch rambled.  
“I’m here,” Siria sighed again. “I’m here, Mr. Crouch.”  
“The Dark Lord… tell Dumbledore.”  
“He’ll be here soon,” Siria patted Mr. Crouch’s head, not sure what else to do.  
Siria wrestled her wand from her jacket and pointed it toward the sky. “Parva Sole!” From the tip of Siria’s wand, a tennis ball sized orb of amber light roze into the air and hovered above them. It lit the grounds all the way to the Beauxbatons carriage and caused the nearby trees to cast long, thin shadows into the Forest. No sooner had the light reached its peak, Krum froze behind Siria. She tried to push Mr. Crouch so she could turn, but something more than shock hit her.  
Two blue orbs twinkled behind two half moons while a bullfrog croaked and croacked ever louder. Siria rushed to her feet so quickly, she nearly fell back down as the world blacked for just a second. She steadied herself, but couldn’t find her wand. “Siria, you are fine,” the patient voice of Professor Dumbledore said. “You and Mr. Krum have been attacked. Please, lie still for a moment.”  
“Mistress!” Kreacher croaked as he patted on a ground beside him and knelt down. Siria sat beside Kreacher and took hold of his hand. She rubbed her other hand to her head then looked to Krum, who was white as a sheet.  
“The last thing I remember, was you getting all stiff. What happened?” Siria asked Krum.  
“Ve were attacked.” Krum grumbled. He seemed as uncomfortable as Siria, so she didn’t ask anything else. Kreacher handed Siria the Black Crested compact, which she flicked open and saw a tiny her and Kreacher, on the ground. She stood up and looked around “Dad?” Dumbledore handed the other Black Crested compact to Kreacher.  
“Your father lent this to me.” Professor Dumbledore said. “He’ll be by later tonight, and Professor McGonagall will come to collect you when he arrives. Once you return to Gryffindor Tower, it is important that you stay there— any practice you may wish to get in can wait.”  
When Hagrid arrived with Karkaroff, Professor Dumbledore explained that someone stunned Krum from behind. The same person or people then stunned Siria. From what Professor Dumbledore had seen in the compact, they then attacked Mr. Crouch. “Professor Moody is searching the grounds for Mr. Crouch and the attacker.” Siria cradled herself in her arms. She didn’t know of a spell to watch her back, but she, Hermione and Ron were going to find one.  
[Book: B4, 562-563 Hagrid escorts Siria back to Gryffindor Tower, tells her she shouldn’t be alone with Krum & when Siria says he was buddy-buddy with Madame Maxime, Hagrid says not to talk about her. Hermione and Ron are in the common room & Siria tells them what happened]  
Just after curfew, the extra hand of Siria’s watch ticked and she knew Sirius was at Hogwarts. She and Hermione waited for Professor McGonagall in the common room. Professor Moody met them in the hall. “Did you find Mr. Crouch?” Siria asked, but Moody shook his head.  
“Even with the page I took from your book,” Moody told her. Siria paused then nodded. He didn’t want to tell Professor McGonagall about the Marauder’s Map either.  
“Well, Hermione says you can’t Apparate on the grounds…” Siria looked to Professor McGonagall. “Is Mr. Crouch an Animagus, like you?”  
“No. Potter-Black, leave the search for Mr. Crouch to the Ministry, please. You have enough to worry about.” Professor McGonagall said.  
“Siria!” Sirius gasped and ran to them. He hoisted her into the air and squeezed her so tight, she thought she might pop. Sirius kissed the top of Siria’s head and put her back onto the ground. “What were you thinking? What if Krum attacked you— he’s got four years of experience on you!” Siria gave Remus a small, quick wave as Sirius continued to “what if” all the way to Dumbledore’s office, where he finished with “did you forget someone’s trying to kill you?”  
“Well, they’re doing a rather poor job of it, aren’t they?” Siria smiled, but Sirius did not.  
Remus placed a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius sighed and took a seat. Professor Dumbledore was at his desk, with Madam Pomfrey at a nearby chair. When Professor McGonagall sat down and Moody leaned near the door, Siria realized this was not a typical visit from Sirius. She lowered herself into the chair beside Sirius, and Remus took the other. There were three extra chairs, one of which Siria figured to be Professor Moody’s, but everyone else had already sat. Professor Moody opened the door just as the greasy black hair of Snape came into sight. Warrington followed a few steps behind. Moody’s magical eye followed Snape to his chair and continued to rest there.  
“Before we begin, would anyone like a drink?” Professor Dumbledore asked. Siria scanned around in the silence. Professor McGonagall watched Siria as though, any moment now, the floor would open up under her. Madam Pomfrey took a cup of cocoa from Professor Dumbledore then stared at Siria with the same expression she did the day Siria fell off her broom. Remus gave Siria the look he did when he offered her chocolate on the Hogwarts Express and her stomach started to churn.  
Professor Dumbledore summoned a comfy chair before his desk and took that seat with his cocoa. Siria’s hand snapped out and grabbed onto Sirius’s arm. Her mouth was too dry to speak. Sirius placed a hand over Siria’s and she wished that Remus had sat on her other side because she was only one empty chair away from Snape— who glared at her with a look of contempt that was worse than any look he had given her before.  
“Now, Cassius, Siria—” Dumbledore started.  
“It wasn’t us!” Siria blurted out. She slapped her other hand over her mouth and looked to Warrington. He sighed. Siria’s fingers clenched Sirius’s arm tighter.  
“Guilty conscious, Potter?” Snape asked.  
“Potter-Black” Sirius, Siria, and Warrington corrected. Sirius’s voice was much clearer and more firm than hers. It was comforting. Siria put her other hand into her lap and smiled at Warrington.  
“Neither of you are in trouble.” Professor Dumbledore said. “Consider this a guidance meeting.” Siria looked to Sirius, who rose and pulled his chair against hers and sat back down. He took her hand into his and rested them on the arm rest.  
“It’s okay. We just need you to be safe.” Sirius told her.  
“You’re very bad at that,” She whispered. He smiled softly, but it didn’t change the deep furrow in his brow.  
“Then I’ll lead by example.” He said. Snape snickered and Sirius shot him a glare.  
Dumbledore placed his empty cocoa mug on his desk and Siria tightened her grip on Sirius’s hand. “It has come to our attention that you have been out after curfew,” Dumbledore said and Snape grinned maliciously at Siria. She wanted to point to Warrington, for she wasn’t alone in being out, but knew better. “The issue however is really that, with the state of things, it may be best to have someone monitor your practices.”  
“Surely, Headmaster, there should be some sort of punishment for breaking curfew?” Snape led.  
“Her name was put into the Goblet of Fire, Severus,” Professor McGonagall snapped, “that’s enough punishment for Ms. Potter-Black.” Siria bit back a smirk. “Are you going to punish Mr. Warrington too?”  
“I have spoken with the other Headmasters,” Dumbledore acted as though he had not heard them, “who are also concerned, after what happened to Ms. Potter-Black and Mr. Krum. They have agreed to use the Great Hall, once dinner has been cleared.” Dumbledore told them. “It is unfortunate that your peers will not be permitted to join, but it ensures you are able to prepare for the tasks in a secure environment.” Siria looked to Sirius and Remus only to see they and the others had looked to her and Warrington. She nodded at Dumbledore, not sure what else to do.  
“Madam Pomfrey, when not otherwise disposed, will attend to monitor with the other headmasters and myself,” Professor Dumbledore continued. Siria nodded again. Her grip on Sirius’s hand remained firm, but no longer constricted him. Dumbledore continued on to tell her that she and the other Champions would have what they need, though the professors would not be able to actively help them, as are the rules.  
“Now,” Professor Dumbledore clapped and rose. “Sirius, Severus, I do believe it is time. Professor Moody, if you would escort Mr. Warrington to the dungeons.” Siria looked, wide-eyed to Warrington, who shrugged. He left with Professor Moody, followed closely by Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall. “Time for what?” Siria whispered to Sirius, but he rose and shook his head at Professor Dumbledore.  
“I disagree.” Sirius stepped between Siria and Dumbledore, and she wasn’t sure he meant to. “There’s been enough excitement today.”  
“Remus,” Siria hissed behind Sirius. He stood beside Sirius and looked to his grey eyed companion.  
“Sirius…” Remus placed his hand on Sirius’s shoulder.  
“Headmaster, surely you’re not implying what this fool thinks you are,” Siria caught Snape’s words through his clenched teeth. Siria stood as well and wedged herself between Sirius and Remus. She looked up at them, “So, does everyone except me know what’s happening?”  
“She’s fourteen,” Sirius reminded them.  
“Because the age of the victim has always been important to Voldemort,” Remus said in a flat tone that read as “Sirius, be reasonable” to Siria. Dumbledore looked over his half moon spectacles and Siria found the usual twinkle light wasn’t there.  
“Am I dying?” Siria asked. “Is one of you dying? Do we have invisible Dragon Pox or something?”  
“Do you remember, the locket you found in your first summer with Sirius?” Dumbledore asked. Siria nodded. Someone would have to Obliviate the memory before she could forget. “Then the diary in your second year?” Sirius placed an arm around Siria and glared at Dumbledore. She had never seen him so dismayed. “Have you ever wondered why they called to you? How the locket summoned you and the diary felt like a friend?” Siria shuddered. She regretted telling him that and took hold of the back of Sirius’s jacket as she nodded.  
“There is a type of magic called a Horcrux; it is a very dark piece of magic in which a person, at the cost of killing another, may merge a piece of their soul with an item. Should something happen to the person, they could, theoretically, not die as long as they have a Horcrux,” Dumbledore explained.  
“So,” Siria’s voice trembled, “when Tom Riddle came to kill me, and I killed him, I made a Horcrux?” Her hand her from how much it shook and the force she used to try and steady it. Sirius pulled her closer and squeezed his eyes shut. He looked miserable.  
Tears filled Siria’s eyes, but she blinked them back and stood taller. Her arm stiffened and she locked her knees to stop their knocking. Dumbledore looked almost apologetic when he confessed she was not quite correct. “Voldemort made a Horcrux that night. When he failed to kill your young and defenseless self, a piece of his soul attached itself to the only living thing in the room.” Siria felt stunned, Stupify stunned.  
“The dementors,” her voice felt foreign to her. She refused to collapse under the humiliation and revelation of what Dumbledore had told her, of what she just learned. Siria had not heard the memory of her parents’ deaths; she heard Tom Riddle’s memory of his soul being ripped from his body.  
“How do we get it out?” Siria asked. She clenched her teeth and raised her head higher, hoping that if she acted proud and unaffected enough, she would be. Sirius shook his head.  
“Someday, Voldemort will return to power and come for you, as a show of strength…” Dumbledore looked almost as miserable as Siria felt.  
“Let him?” Siria choked and nodded. “Cool,” she choked out and blinked as much as she could to stop her tears, but they escaped past her. “No!” She shouted. “It’s not!” She knocked Sirius’s arm from her. “I’m— I’m just supposed to die? Then why didn’t you just let Quirrell finish me off?” She sniffled. Sirius reached for her, but she knocked his arm away and glared around the room. “Great, sure— so I have to get through the Triwizard Tournament so Tom Bloody Riddle can kill me himself, do I? Don’t touch me!” She screamed at Sirius, who’s hand flinched back.  
“Siria—” Dumbledore began.  
“NO!” She screamed. Siria lifted the chair she had sat on and threw it into the middle of the room. Remus and Sirius stepped out of its way. Snape walked beside the Headmaster’s deck and looked at Siria with what she took to be pity. “Don’t you dare!” She pointed at Snape. “Don’t you dare bully people then think you’ve the right to pity me— don’t worry!” She snapped at them. “I’ll get through the Tournament fine and live a nice, short life until ol’ Voldy comes for me! I’ll be sure to throw up my arms for the greater good.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you all,” her voice fell from her thunderous rage to barely a whisper. “Don’t write me.”  
She turned to the door, which had been locked. Siria slid her wand from her jacket. “Alohomora!” It did not click. Her burning, green eyes glared over her shoulder.  
“Siria, when you’re ready to continue, we’ll be here.” Dumbledore told her and the door unlocked. She shook her head and stormed down the stairs. Her rage boiled inside her. Even if she screamed into eternity, the rage would be there. Siria paced before the Room of Requirement, which appeared before her, full of objects as fragile as she felt. The door had not even closed when the shattering screams and waves of glass began.  
At the top of her lungs, Siria screamed into the room. She took object after object without seeing what they were and threw them into other objects, into towers of glass goblets, against tiny glass figures and onto the harsh, white floor. Somehow, the tears had escaped her and Siria collapsed onto the floor, coated in broken glass. She glared at her hands and caught sight of the watch. Siria fought the watch off her wrist and threw it into the void of shattered glass. She snapped the necklace off and tossed it as well.  
Intent to rub her meaningless destruction in her face, the walls of the room turned to mirrors. Blotchy faced and with tears still streaming, a messy haired, green eyed girl stared back at Siria with scorn.  
“The Girl Who Lived,” she scoffed.


	30. The Dream and the Pensive

**The Dream & the Pensive **   


Before Hermione even stirred, Siria was awake and in the Great Hall for breakfast. Though, it was more an act of moving food around a plate than actually eating breakfast. She finished before Hermione or Ron made it down, and headed to the library. Madam Pince’s eyes mirrored the horntail’s as Siria glanced over the shelves. The library had a much smaller collection than the Room of Requirement. While there was book on European schools of magic, that was it. She picked up an order form from Madam Pince and headed out for Herbology.  
“Potter-Black!” Lily Moon called. She was headed to Herbology with Susan Bones. “Hermione was looking for you,” Lily ushered Susan along to catch up with Siria. “You look… great!” Lily nodded to Susan who clearly didn’t want to lie, so she nodded. “Your hair’s always got this really great shine to it.” Lily forced a smile and looked from Siria to Susan then back.  
“Lily,” Siria uttered.  
“Yes?” Lily exclaimed as she tensed up.  
“If you were dying, what would you?” Siria asked. Lily turned to Susan, jaw dropped.  
“I’d… cut all ties,” Susan confessed. “It might be hard, but it might make it easier for my family.” Siria nodded and pushed open the door to the greenhouse.  
“Thanks.” She waved to them and took her usual spot.  
“Where were you?” Hermione asked. “You were almost late.” Siria shrugged in reply.  
“I snuck you some toast,” Ron unwrapped four pieces of toast with butter and jam from a stolen napkin.  
“I ate,” Siria told them and pulled her hair back as Professor Sprout greeted them. She spent the rest of the lesson wondering how she could get Hermione and Ron to cut their ties. Maybe she could just tell them, but Siria shook the idea from her mind. There was no way that her best friends would let her die alone.  
“Hippalectryon!” Hagrid applauded the strange creature that was tied behind the paddock. Ron and Siria looked to each other and laughed. Siria stopped almost immediately and stared at the Hippalectryon. It was a one-legged, giant rooster with the head of a horse. For as beautiful as its shining rainbow feathers were, the way it hopped on its leg made Siria smirk, no matter how much she tried to keep a straight face.  
“What’s up with you today?” Ron asked as they headed back to the castle. Siria shrugged.  
“You did get back awfully late,” Hermione noted, “and you were gone so early. You may just be tired.”  
“Should ditch Trelawny's then,” Ron nodded as they sat. Siria shrugged again. She could at least try.  
“Maybe,” She nodded.  
“Oh,” Hermione winced at Siria’s voice. “You might be sick— you sound really gravely. No wonder you’ve been quiet.” Siria nodded and pressed her lips into a tight smile. She rolled a pea around her plate for most of lunch and headed to the Hospital Wing.  
“Potter-Black?” Madam Pomfrey asked. She clicked her tongue twice, but let Siria in to rest. “I can’t very well give you a Pepperup and send you into an oven, so you can rest this time.” She flicked her wand and the windows and curtains closed. “I’ll brew up something for your throat; just cast a little light, if you need me,” she told Siria and excused herself to the office. Siria didn’t really think she was tired, but supposed it couldn’t hurt. She thought wrong. Fatigue washed over her and wiped out not only her drowning worry, but her consciousness.  
[Book: B4, 576-577 Siria dreams of riding an eagle owl, which delivers a letter to a large snake, Wormtail, and a figure in a chair. She learns that Wormtail’s “blunder” has not ruined everything because “he is dead”, so Nagini will not be eating Wormtail, but she’ll still be eating Siria. Voldemort uses Crucio, which fills Siria’s scar and causes her to wake, screaming]

“Siria!” Madam Pomfrey had Siria’s shoulders pinned to the bed. She sighed and sat when Siria sat up. “You were clutching your scar,” she told Siria. Siria pulled her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead to them.  
“I need to see Dumbledore,” she growled.  
“A nightmare, then?” Madam Pomfrey nodded and wrote out a note. She handed it to Siria. “Cockroach Cluster, don’t know why, but it is.” Siria rocked as she nodded and looked around the Wing. “Come back after you speak with him. The Potion’ll be done in twenty minutes or so.” Siria rocked again and got to her feet. She slid her shoes back on and went to Dumbledore’s office.   
[Book: B4 579-599 Siria eavesdrops on Fudge, Dumbledore and Moody, who are talking about what could have happened to Mr. Crouch. They leave her in the office, where she sees and enters the pensive. In there she sees Karkaroff, who tries to sell out other Death Eaters to get off; he tries Snape, but Dumbledore defends him. Karkaroff turns in Bellatrix Lestrange, who is not named, & Barty Crouch Jr. They & their 2 companions are sent to Azkaban for torturing the Longbottoms. The current Dumbledore returns to his office and removes Siria from the Pensive, which he explains is used to store memories for future viewing and viewing old memories. He shows her Bertha Jorkins then asks why she came to the office.]

Siria sighed and clasped her fingers. “I had…” her voice scraped against her throat; it was raw from her screams and would only get worse. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and took a slow, steady breath. She raised her head, straightened her shoulders and focused on Dumbledore’s forehead. “I had another ‘nightmare’,” Siria struggled to keep her expression flat. Her hands trembled in her grasp. They wanted to break things… she wanted to break things. Siria took another slow steady breath, and explained the dream.  
“Has your scar hurt at any other point this year, besides this summer when you had a similar nightmare?” Dumbledore asked (B4, 600). He leaned over the pensive and took his wand to and from it and his temple.  
“No,” she dug her nails into her hands and forced a smile. “Do you have any other questions for me, Headmaster?”  
“I do not, but do you have any for me?” He asked. Dumbledore tilted his head to view Siria over the rims of his half moon spectacles. Siria kept herself as tall as she could.  
“No. I’d imagine these ‘nightmares’ are because I’m a Horcrux,” the “x” seemed to get smashed on its way out because her throat dried at the word. She gave the slightest bob of her head as a nod, to herself more than him.  
[Book: B4, 600-604 Dumbledore provides his suspicious that the scar connects Siria & Voldemort and that he’s getting stronger because there are disappearances, as they were during his rise to power: Bertha Jorkins, Crouch, & a Muggle named Frank Bryce (who is from the summer nightmare). The image on the pensive turns to Snape, who Dumbledore tells Siria has not been accused of any Dark Arts since then & that the reason Dumbledore trusts Snape is between the two of them]

Siria nodded. “Sounds right,” her hoarse voice growled. “Thanks, Headmaster,” and she turned to the door.  
“Siria, there is one more thing you may want to think on,” said Dumbledore. Her hand paused on the door. “Perhaps, before burning bridges, you may want to give your loved ones a choice.” Siria scoffed.  
“Thanks,” and slammed the door behind her.


	31. Cleaved Bridges

**Cleaved Bridges**   


Siria slid her bright yellow, fluffy eggs back and forth on her plate. She sat at the furthest end of the table and continued to remain silent. Hermione sat close to where Cedric sat at the Hufflepuff table, so they could turn and talk with each other. Ron sat with Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, but would pass by and ask something to the effect of “got any spare pumpkin juice?” Siria glared at the table and refused to lift her head. If she ignored them long enough, they would move on and wouldn’t be there when she died.  
Her fork paused. “It’s been weeks,” Siria reminded herself, “get over it… people much younger than you have died for less.” As with every morning, a letter from Sirius arrived. She tore the letter in half without opening it and stuffed the pieces into her bag without a glance. This morning, Remus had also written, she did the same to his letter. A third owl arrived, one of the school owls. It extended what looked like a weed. The plant had a long green stalk with several, small yellow flowers that almost looked like dandelions. There was just a small card that read “goldenrod.”  
With the flower beside her plate, Siria glared at the card. The handwriting was too clean to be Neville’s and too sharp to Hannah Abbott’s. It was too small and neat for Ron, but too large for Hermione. Someone plopped into the seat across from Siria. She put the card under the flower and glared at the small, mousy haired Dennis. “Get lost,” she told him.  
“No,” Dennis quacked. “You don’t— you don’t own the table.” He stammered and scraped some eggs onto his plate. Dennis’s large eyes reeked with abandonment, but Siria felt her glare firm.  
“You’re annoying me,” Siria hissed. Dennis shook his head. “Yes, you are.”  
An arm slung around Siria’s neck and pulled her in as another arm draped over the first and someone pushed her into the first body. “What—” she cursed through her gritted teeth. “Get off!” George Weasley tapped Siria on the nose.  
“Don’t think so, Potty Mouth Potter-Black,” said George.  
“See, we’ve got a letter,” Fred said as he withdrew an envelope.  
“From your pop,” George added.  
“About you,” Fred squashed Siria even more between the two of them, and Ron sat beside Dennis. Colin and Hermione had snuck over and sat down when Fred and George blindsided Siria.  
“Honestly,” Hermione shook her head. Her voice was barely a whisper and her brown eyes were bloodshot. “You’re impossible.”  
“Why don’t you go snog your stupid boyfriend,” Siria choked out. She elbowed George, who pulled her closer into his side.  
“That’s not very nice,” he grinned.  
“We’re here to help,” Fred smirked. Siria snatched the letter from them. It was from Sirius, who claimed “Siria’s worried she’ll die in the final task and doesn’t want any of you to suffer[…]” she shook her head and tossed the letter on the table.  
“Have you considered I realized I don’t like any of you?” Siria asked. She looked to the Slytherin table, to Draco Malfoy. “That’s what you need to be,” she told herself, “but worse.”  
“A bunch of blood—” she gasped as Fred tickled her side. Siria clenched her side and George went for the other.  
“Come on, Potter-Black,” George laughed.  
“Let us help,” Fred chuckled.  
“Potter” the hoarse voice of Professor Moody cut through the twins, who stopped. “My office.” His magical eye looked back through his head, at Colin, Denis, Fred, George, Hermione, and Ron, as he escorted Siria from the Great Hall.  
“Potter, you’re welcome to my office,” Professor Moody told Siria once he opened the door. “I understand the need to be alone. You never know who you can trust,” Moody clanked over to his chair and sat. “I appreciate your reservations.”  
“Thanks,” Siria muttered as she sat down. “Er, Professor, did you find that book?”  
“Accio!” Moody pointed his wand. A moldy book zoomed in and dropped onto the desk. “It was older than I remembered.”  
“May I really borrow it?” Siria asked.  
“Of course!” He slid the book over to her. “You’ve got a good head, Potter— you don’t need their help.”  
“Thank you,” Siria nodded and put the book into her bag. “See you in class.”  
“I’ll save you a seat up front,” Moody smirked.  
Professor McGonagall dropped a stack of parchment that had looked sewn together and glued to a piece of wood. She arched her eyebrows higher than Siria had ever seen them and opened the book, which contained handwritten pages. “You’ll be starting here, today, Potter-Black.” Siria glanced from Professor McGonagall to the page and a laugh jumped from her throat.  
“Honestly Professor, I’d really rather work with the Guinea Pigs,” Siria looked to other desks. Professor McGonagall gave a thin smile.  
“As you already know the spell, you ought to learn something new, Potter-Black.”  
Siria peaked to the pages Professor McGonagall had skipped past, but McGonagall put her other hand down. “This one, Potter-Black. If you’re going to burn bridges, you should know how to make them.”  
“Right,” Siria clicked her tongue. “I’m sure dropping a bridge on someone will make us best friends again.” She tugged the book out from Professor McGonagall’s hands. “Where exactly do you want the bridge?”  
“Across the Lake. Hagrid is expecting you and I’ll see when you’re done. Don’t come back into this room until there’s a bridge across the Lake, Potter-Black,” Professor McGonagall instructed. Siria took the book and left. She rolled her eyes and sighed.  
“Maybe I can just drop a bridge on Tom,” she sighed again. “Like that’ll work,” Siria shook her head and flipped through the book as she walked. There were spells she had never even heard of in the book: Smoke to Daggers, Lightning to Hammer, Spindle to Ballista, Thread to Ballista Bolts, and so on. “What does anyone with a wand need a Ballista for?” Siria murmured and sat down, at the edge of the Lake, with the book in her lap. She flipped back to the bridge spell. Siria groaned at the spell and withdrew her wand, which she pointed at the Lake. With the tip of her wand, Siria gestured from the spot before her, to the other side of the lake.  
“Gesture the start and finish,” she muttered, “flick the tip of the wand in a counterclockwise motion at the end of its trail…” Siria squeezed her eyes shut while she continued to make the motion. “Emphasis is as follows, but must be completed by the end of the flick,” Siria muttered and rested her head in her hands to stare at the book. The curly, bold black font glared up at her from the page“Pon-TEM-ve-ER-ba mea-FIE-t.”  
After an hour of focused wand pointing and flicking, Siria was no closer to making a bridge than she was to becoming Minister of Magic. She buried her face in the notes around the spell while she headed to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Whoever wrote it had placed the spell in the center of the page with its gesture beneath. Then they drew lines from it in all directions. Like a spider’s web, the lines crossed and wove themselves to other notes.

After another month of failure, A.  
leant me The Tales of Beedle and the Bard, again.  
I suppose I looked deeper than I should have because,  
on the other side of a research rabbit hole, I’ve made this spell.  
People may argue that I’ve brought it back,  
but they can argue what they like.  
I made this spell and Merlin at my witness,  
I won’t stop here!  


The exclamation point pressed deep into the parchment and the author had punctured through with their quill. She placed the book at her seat in Moody’s class, without seeing the stacks of books beside it. Siria looked at the other notes and traced the web to “wand motion.” Most of the words in the web had been crossed out, but with a single, almost ruler straight line of ink. They were still perfectly legible and said things like “jab,” “swish,” “flick,” slice,” and “turn.”  
“Constant vigilance!” Moody barked when he entered the room. Siria closed the book of sorts and tucked it into her bag. He waved the desks and chairs to the wall. “Hope you’ve studied,” Moody cackled. The room went quiet and still. Siria gulped. “You’ll be dueling each other,” a wicked grin crossed Moody’s mamed face, “then me.” Siria squeezed her eyes shut and put a hand to her ear. Last time Moody pointed a wand at her, her ears twitched until the next morning.  
Each of the girls drew a name from the bowl of Moody’s desk. Siria sighed and looked to Neville. Crimson rushed from his face and sickly white took its place. “You and your partner will try and climb through the ranks, to me,” Moody instructed and pointed to the chalkboard. Their names appeared in a tournament fashion. Neville shuffled to Siria’s side with his head down. She pressed her lips together and raised her head. “Stay out of my way,” she demanded. Siria’s hand trembled on her wand, but not as much as Neville’s did.  
“We’ve been practicing with Hermione,” Parvati reported with a confident grin. Siria shook her head and looked to Neville.  
“Stay behind me and don’t cast anything. We won’t make it if you hit me instead,” Siria said. Neville and Siria raised their wands and bowed to Seamus and Parvati, as Dean and Hermione did the same to Lavender and Ron. Moody scanned the room, “Go!”  
Neville rushed behind Siria, as she pointed her wand at Seamus, “Stupefy!” He froze and clattered to the floor. Parvati pointed to Siria “Expelliarmus!”  
“Protego!” Siria snapped her wand across and the bolt of red shot off and to the floor. “Foetidus Adpiscem!” Parvati screamed and clapped her hands to her nose. Lavender stopped to look and Hermione stunned her. She dropped the floor, as Ron hit Dean with a spell that triggered his legs to dance uncontrollably. Hermione pointed her wand to Dean to stop Ron’s spell and Moody clanked over to Parvati.  
“What is wrong with you?” Parvati cried while Moody unstunned Seamus. “You’ve been a complete nightmare!” Siria scoffed and crossed her arms. “Siria Potter-Black,” Parvati shook her head, “Even if you became the best duelist, you’ll have no one to share it with!”  
“Please,” Siria rolled her eyes, “do you even hear yourself? You can’t share things like that.” Parvati stomped toward Siria, but Hermione grabbed Parvati by the arm and shook her head.  
“There’s not reasoning with her,” Hermione gritted her teeth.  
As Draco Malfoy did, even when he was completely wrong, Siria raised her head higher. “Don’t worry, Granger, I’ll get you once I’m done with Dunbar,” she shrugged. Her organs groaned while they were torn to pieces by her own words. “No,” Siria told herself and stood to her full height. She was taller than Hermione, but knew that Fay being taller wouldn’t help her win.  
Hermione and Siria glared over the tips of their wands. Hands ripped Siria’s mouth into a smirk and kept it pinned. The last time Siria saw Hermione make that face was when Rita Skeeter wrote the article about Hagrid. “GO!” Moody called and jets of colored light bolted around the room. Ron flipped a desk to hide behind and peer over as spells ricocheted around the classroom. Dean and Neville were stunned within the first minute. Step after step, Hermione and Siria circled around the room with the same distance between them.  
“Who are you?” Hermione thundered as she deflected another stun to the ground.  
“Siria— Potter!” Siria bellowed while she leapt out of the way of Hermione’s hex. “Densaugeo!”  
“You did not!” Ron roared from behind the desk.  
“Shut it!” Hermione and Siria snapped.  
“You’re impossible!” Hermione shouted. Siria threw her head back to scoff.  
“Do you hear yourself?” Siria yelled back. “Look in a mirror!”  
“You look in a mirror!” Hermione echoed and reached into her pocket.  
“Accio Button!” Siria cried, “Crescere Clypeus” and the button grew to size of a fence. Something hovered over it. It was a silver chain, with a small star and thin, silver “S”. “Get that trash away from me!” Siria howled. The necklace dropped and Siria caught it, only to throw it against the wall. She waved her wand “Reverti!” The button shrank, fell to the floor, and rolled away.  
“You’re the impossible one,” Siria’s vulnerable voice cut through the silent and still room. “Just leave me alone.” She gestured to the unstunned Neville, who crouched behind a table with the unstunned Dean, as Hermione neared her. “I’m better off.”  
“You didn’t even give him a chance to help you!” Hermione cried into Siria’s face. Their wands were pointed to the ground. “You’ve been off ever since Crouch went missing— I get that you were attacked and that’s scary, but it’s terrifying to see you just burning everything.”  
“Well sor—ry!” Siria sang with her voice drenched in all the malice she could muster. “Didn’t mean to ‘terrify’ poor, little—” Siria grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and pulled her down “PROTEGO!”   
Whatever spell Moody cast crackled down Siria’s Shield Charm. He grinned like a mad man. “Constant vigilance, Potter,” he growled. Siria stepped between Hermione and Moody.  
“She wasn’t even facing you!” Parvati snapped, but ducked back under the flipped table.  
“Constant vigilance,” Siria spat and shook her head. “Fine!” Siria screamed her voice hoarse as jets of red, violet, and yellow shot around the room. Hit chairs shattered, legs flew off desks, and the bookshelf spat out books.  
“STUPEFY!” Hermione screamed and Moody froze. Siria collapsed to her knees and gasped for air. Her arm trembled as she extended her wand “Accio Map!” She clattered to the floor and rolled onto her back. When the Marader’s Map arrived, it landed on her chest. “I’ll be taking this back now,” she panted. “Thanks…”  
“Come on,” Hermione extended her hand to Siria. “Your stupid lone wolf period is over and you’ve got a lot of apologizing to do.” Siria put a hand on the Map and casually tossed the other to her forehead.  
“I’m bleeding awful at apologizes,” Siria confessed in a low, drained voice.  
“Lucky for you, practice makes… better,” Hermione offered a faint smile.  
Siria’s hand clapped into Hermione’s and slow applause broke into the class. Parvati and Lavender hugged Siria. “Sorry,” she murmured. They laughed.  
“Oh, you’ve a long way to go to be forgiven!” Parvati shook her head.  
“But that was amazing!” Lavender squeezed Siria.  
“You almost held your own against an Auror!” Parvati cheered. Siria nodded and tapped out of the hug. She looked to Ron and scratched the back of her neck. He put his table upright and gazed at her from the side.  
“I don’t want an apology,” Ron stated. Siria paused and looked to the ground.  
“Right, of course…” she quaked, as her head trembled.  
“I want an explanation,” he added and raised his head. Siria nodded and wrapped him into a hug.  
“Of course!” She beamed.  
“Tonight,” Hermione squeezed into the hug. “We’ll meet you in the Room,” she grinned and tugged the Map from Siria’s robes. Siria nodded and pressed her head to theirs.  
“Um,” Neville gulped. “What about Professor Moody?”  
“Yeah…” Siria trailed. “I’ll go get Professor Dumbledore. I’m not about to unstun him and get attacked again.”

“So…” Siria bit her lip as she scanned over the faces in the Room of Requirement. Warrington rested his hands on Travers’s shoulders while she covered her mouth, but neither hid the knit of their brows. Maddy had pulled Patricia closer to her as Siria’s explanation progressed. Neville was good as petrified and Lavender and Parvati were in no better shape. Dean and Seamus looked like they had each lost a fight. Cedric pressed his knuckles to his mouth. Colin and Dennis mirrored someone who caught a basilisk's reflection. Ron mouthed wordlessly to Hermione, who stared at Siria with tears ready to burst from her eyes. Even Fred and George were silent and still.  
“So,” Siria repeated and scratched the back of her neck. “Um, I get if you don’t want to be friends, or—”   
“Are you mad?” Lavender screamed.  
“You’ve lost your mind!” Parvati echoed.  
“You could— you could die of— die of old age!” Ron stammered. Siria sighed and looked over her glasses.  
“Didn’t you hear me? As long as Voldemort—get over it—” she snapped at the flinchers, “can come back again, even if Dumbledore beats him.”  
“No,” Hermione rose so fast her chair toppled behind her. “Ron is right— you can die of old age! You’re— you’re practically immune to the Imperious Curse, so no one could force you to bring him back?” She pressed her fingertips to her lips. “I don’t know how Horcruxes work,” she confessed.  
“But we know now,” Fay reminded them. “We can prepare or something.”  
“Yeah!” Colin cheered.  
“What?” Siria asked. “No! You should leave me and it alone, and—” George slung his arm around Siria’s shoulder and laughed.  
“Ms. Potter-Black,” George tutted.  
“The hypocrisy!” Fred draped an arm over his forehead in dramatic outrage.  
“We aren’t leaving you,” George wrapped Siria into a headlock and rubbed his knuckles against her hair.  
“We’re here to stay,” Hermione’s voice was crisp and clear as others chimed in around the room.  
“I don’t know how much I believe,” Seamus muttered, “but I can at least use the practice.”  
“That’s fine,” Siria beamed as she hugged Hermione.  
“Here,” Warrington held his clenched fist out once Hermione broke apart her hug. Siria tapped her own fist against Warrington’s and he sighed. Warrington placed something cool into her hand. “It matches your necklace,” he noted and gave a nod to the small star and “S” on the thin silver chain around her neck. She snapped the watch around her wrist. “The Room?” She guessed. Warrington patted Siria’s wilder than usual hair.  
“Anything else you’d like to share?” he smirked.  
“Actually,” Siria rushed to her bag and pulled out the bound parchment McGonagall had leant her, “who’s up for building bridges?”


	32. The Third Task

**The Third Task**  


“Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about Rita Skeeter,” Hermione confessed, though it surprised no one. Ron and Siria exchanged a look and a sigh. Colin, who had spent every meal since their reconciliation beside Siria, elbowed her for the third time this morning while he added more bacon to his place. Dennis, who sat on her other side, snuck some of his carrots on to Siria’s plate when she and Ron exchanged their look. He grinned to Colin when Siria seemed to not notice.  
“Have you?” Fred asked and shook his head.  
“Couldn’t’ve guess,” George added. Hermione blushed, but she raised her head.  
“Yes. I’ve gone so far as to ask Luna Lovegood,” Hermione said.  
“Hermione,” George tsked.  
“How did that help?” Fred asked. Siria swept up the last of her carrots, for the second time.  
“Well,” Hermione pressed her lips together, “I know how she isn’t doing it, so it’s really down to a short list now.”  
“Maybe she’s using Polyjuice Potion,” George joked.  
“Yeah. She’s turning into a student,” Fred chuckled.  
“Haven’t you noticed?” George grinned from Fred to Hermione.  
“Dennis has been acting strange all year,” Fred smirked.   
Dennis’s fork slipped as he jerked back. The fork fell on Siria’s plate. She sighed and placed an arm around Dennis’s shoulders while he shook his head frantically. “Please,” Siria muttered through clenched teeth, “pick someone else,” she requested of the twins then looked to Dennis. “Either eat your own vegetables or sneak them on my plate better,” she instructed.  
“You knew!” Dennis gasped. She placed her head in her hand.  
“Just,” Siria squeezed her eyes shut, “just eat something other than bacon.” She cracked an eye open and looked to Colin, “you too.”  
Hermione’s brown, bushy hair swept from side to side as she muttered “Polyjuice,” under her breath. “Might as well suggest she’s—” Hermione’s eyes flew to Siria. She reached across the table and grabbed Siria’s face. “That!” Hermione exclaimed as she pressed on Siria’s cheeks. Hermione’s thumbs prodded Siria’s mouth through her cheeks and she opened her mouth a sliver. It was just enough for Hermione to catch sight of the mandrake leaf. “Anyone can, can’t they?” Hermione asked.  
“Yes…?” Siria looked from Ron to Fred then George and Lee Jordan.  
“But that’s so illegal,” Hermione beamed at Siria the way Dennis and Colin did when they were finally allowed to join the Room of Requirement sessions.  
“Yes…” Siria slurred between her squished cheeks while Hermione’s eyes lit with the same fire they had in their second year. “Library?”  
“Library!” Hermione pulled Siria closer, pecked her on the head, swept her things, and was gone.  
“What is she?” Fred asked as he watched her bushy brown hair disappear from sight.  
“She’s got a book dependency,” Ron sighed, “Mental, that one.” He swept the bacon from Hermione’s abandoned plate then offered the eggs to Siria.  
“It’d be nice if she ever told us her suspicions. Like ‘it might be a basilisk’,” Siria noted as she dumped the eggs to her plate and plopped the last bite of mixed vegetables on Dennis’s plate. “You know? She’s bloody brilliant, so even if she was wrong, we could prepare for something of the same caliber.” she sighed and watched Dennis take a half bite of the vegetables. He took a larger scoop with her stern gaze on him.  
“Potter-Black, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast,” Professor McGonagall told Siria when she approached the table (B4, 614). Siria gagged as she inhaled her final bite of eggs.  
“But— tonight,” she choked.  
“The champions’ families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them,” she tsked and moved along (B4, 614).  
“She does know Sirius has snuck his way into every task, right?” Ron asked.  
“A true Marauder,” George sighed with admiration.  
“A king in our hearts,” Fred winked to Siria.  
“Well, he’s here for me today, so, if you’d kindly leave us alone,” Siria glared, “that’d be great.”  
When Siria got to her feet, Colin and Dennis each grabbed one of her arms. Their large eyes pleaded like Dobby’s. “See— see you soon!” Colin stammered.  
“And don’t forget about summer!” Dennis added. Siria slipped her arms from them and ruffled their hair.  
“Don’t look so worried,” she soothed as she patted their hair down and crouched to be level with them while they sat.  
“Your big sis’ll be fine,” Fred assured them.  
“She’s got it in the bag,” George agreed. Siria rolled her eyes.  
“It’ll be like first year all over,” Ron told them and Siria smiled.  
“There’ll be a Stargazer on me, so you’ll get to see what a walk in the park it’ll be,” Siria reminded them. “Focus on your finals, okay?” The Creevey brothers nodded. Siria waved and left the Great Hall; she caught Warrington on his way out.  
“Ready to lose?” Warrington taunted as they walked down the hall.  
“Please, you’re totally going to eat my dust,” Siria said while she pushed the door open. “I’ve been doing this stuff since year one,” and she stuck her tongue out.  
“I started learning magic when you were still in diapers,” Warrington boasted.  
“Let’s hope your old bones hold up then, senior,” Siria sassed.  
“If you’re done dissing each other, I’d like to hug my daughter,” Sirius said, his hand cupped around his mouth. Siria’s face flushed and she tucked her chin to her chest as she stomped over to Sirius.  
“Dad…” Siria’s voice fell when she actually looked around the room. Sirius had not come alone or only brought Remus. Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Mrs. Creevey had come as well. “Mrs—” Siria began, but Sirius swept an arm around her and spoke over her.  
“You remember Remus’s cousin, Barbara,” he winked at her and Siria positively beamed.  
“So good to see you again,” she smiled and hugged Mrs. Creevey then Mrs. Weasley.  
[Book: B4, 615-619 The other champions families are there as well. Charlie wasn’t able to come, but said she did well against the dragon. Siria shows them around the school. She learns Percy isn’t doing well because the Ministry wants to keep Mr. Crouch’s disappearance on the downlow and Percy has been brought in for questioning a lot lately.]

With the Weasleys, Creeveys, Hermione, Remus, Siria, and Sirius, lunch was even more lively than it was over summer. Fred and George didn’t say a word to Sirius the whole meal. They winked at Siria when they left for afternoon classes. Hermione whispered something to Sirius before she and Ron left for their test. He whispered to Remus, but assured everyone else “it’s nothing,” before he suggested a walk around the castle.  
[Book: B4, 619-620 Dinner is even larger than usual. Dumbledore has the champions head to the Quidditch Field first. Bagman asks if Siria feels confident and she does, however nervous she may be. The Quidditch field is unrecognizable, with 20 foot hedges & a dark, creepy entrance. The stands fill. Professor McGonagall explains that she, Hagrid, Moody, and Flitwick will patrol the perimeter & they’re to send red sparks if they want to be rescued.]

Remus tightened Siria’s Stargazer around her waist. “If you’re unable to continue, we’ll know and come in after you,” Professor McGonagall informed them, “good luck.”  
[Book: B4, 620-621 Hagrid wishes Siria good luck. Bagman magnifies his voice and Warrington & Siria walk up to the entrance. She can make out the Weasleys, Sirius, Remus, Hermione, and the Creevey brothers with their mother. Bagman tells them to go. They light their wands with Lumos then Warrington and Siria walk together until the first fork in the maze.]  
“Do we go left or right?” Siria asked. Warrington patted her shoulder.  
“I’ll go right and you’ll go left,” said Warrington, “see you when I’ve got the Cup, Potter-Black,” and she watched him walk down the right until he turned out of sight. Siria whispered the light from her wand out. While the Stargazer wasn’t bright, it did provide enough to see alright. Siria marched down the left path.  
Bagman’s whistle signaled the entrance of Krum then Fleur (B4, 621). Siria crept through the dark maze, lit by her Stargazer. “Hogwarts, Hogwarts,” Siria sang in a low whisper, “teach us something please…” it was the only thing her mind could muster to fill the silence, until something else did: rapid snaps accompanied a chorus of swift lashes. With regular glances around her, Siria continued onward and was met by path out of a spy movie. Ribbons of thorny, thin branches snapped across the walkway then retracted while something yellow zipped between the same two spots of the path. She looked to her watch. It had been ten minutes; she was owed an obstacle.  
“One, two—” SNAP Siria timed as she watched the vines. “Three, four, five—” SNAP she nodded and took a full, deep breath. Step— step— SNAP— hop— SNAP. Siria grasped her chest like it would magically calm her heart. Step— step— step— duck— SNAP—BLAST! Siria shrieked as she was knocked to the ground. Her hands covered her ears too late save them. She knew she had cried out, but she couldn’t hear it. The snaps had stopped. Siria raised her eyes, her ears full of deafening vibrations… the branches had not stopped, they had merely grown silent.  
Her knees collapsed under her when she tried to stand again. She pressed her head to the cool grass of the maze and squeezed her eyes shut. If she just laid there, her hearing would come back in time, “Right?” Siria wondered. Her head throbbed, but when she ran her fingers along her braid, it was clean. She groaned and rolled onto her stomach while the yellow something zipped just past her head.  
“Parva Sole” a small, yellow-orange orb of light shot up and rested at the top of the maze’s wall. The snapping branches had burst the Stargazer. From the blast it caused, which scorched the area of wall just above where Siria ducked to avoid a branch. “Really, dad?” She groaned. How had they not made them more damage resistant or less dangerous when they broke?  
Fire shot over Siria in a tunnel of bright blue flame. Then something snagged the back of Siria’s robes and dragged her. She waved her arms and tried to shake out of the robes. An entire arm out, Siria stumbled to her feet when the dragging stopped. “Warrington?” She asked. He replied. “What?” She bellowed back. He tapped each of her ears with his wand.  
“Are you okay?” Warrington repeated. Siria wiggled a finger in her ear.  
“Kinda?” She confessed with uncertainty. There was a thunderous buzzing in her ears. “My Stargazer popped.”  
“You’re still shouting,” he noted.  
“What?” Siria asked. Warrington pinched the bridge of his nose. One of his sleeves was split open and torn half off. He turned and unfastened his Stargazer. “Stop! What if you need it?”  
“Your dad made it to watch you— not me!” He bellowed, so she could hear him.  
“No way!” Siria waved her arms.  
“Take it or I’ll let go!” He told her. Siria glared and he released it. Her hand snapped to its strap, worried it would fly off like a balloon. “Get lost, Potter-Black!” Warrington took off at a run.  
The Stargazer watched Siria, who glared at it. After a moment’s debate and the knowledge she wasn’t getting any closer to the Cup standing there, she continued deeper into the maze.  
[Book: B4, 623 she continues and finds a Boggart, which she first thinks is a dementor, but beats it all the same. With the Four Point Spell “Point Me” she finds 2 dead ends, but feels like she’s getting closer. Then she comes to the golden mist.]

“Serpensortia!” a small garden snake dropped to Siria’s feet, she swept it up and looked apologetically at it. “I’m sorry,” she winced and stuck the snake’s head and her hand into the mist. The world flipped around Siria and took her stomach with it (B4, 624) she clutched her other hand to her mouth. [B4, 624 she’s upside down].  
“What are you doing?” the snake hissed, “keep walking,” Siria’s head spun and she squeezed her eyes shut.  
“Be my eyes!” She pleaded and took a blind step forward, only to crash to the floor as her balance returned. Siria placed the hand with the snake down, but it wrapped around her. “Fair,” she sighed and got to her feet.  
Fleur’s voice pierced through the air with a shattering scream (B4, 624). Siria flinched toward the voice, but paused. Everyone except Warrington had a Stargazer. If Fleur was in trouble, the professors would know. They would save Fleur. What if something happened to her Stargazer? Siria took a step toward Fleur's scream. “Hagrid is counting on you,” part of her reminded herself, “to show the world you don’t have to be pureblood. It’s not just yourself you’re competing for.” She closed her eyes and nodded. Besides, with how loud Siria’s Stargazer had been, they would know if Fleur’s had burst. “Point Me!” She told her wand and followed North-Northwest.  
Water. Deep, dark water that mirrored a stormy ocean filled the path before Siria. It was too long to jump across and she had not prepared her Firebolt. She wasn’t even sure she could summon her Firebolt into the maze. With how it magically silenced the stands, it was bound to have other enchantments on it. Siria sighed and took her dueling stance. Siria filled her lungs with the cool air of the maze while she pressed her eyes closed and pictured the bridge. “Pontemverba Meafiet!” Nothing happened.  
Siria looked over her shoulder then to her watch. Going back would just be lost time and, for all she knew, the Cup could be just out of sight. Her choices were to either make a bridge or, “Or…” She looked to the small garden snake before she placed it on the ground and enlarged it. It was nearly the size of the viper she had used to distract the Horntail. “Would you—” Siria began, but the snake stretched across the water.  
Scaled hands snapped up and scratched at the gigantic snake. Siria shivered, but pulled herself onto the snake and ran across. Beneath her feet, smoke broke through cracks in her snake as she ran. Near the end, her snake was more flake and smoke than body. Siria leapt, pointed her wand at the water “Aguamenti!” It was even to vault her over, and she tumbled on the other side. She placed her hand over her chest and caught her breath before she continued deeper into the maze.  
Rainbow wings flashed toward Siria. She dropped the floor and pressed herself to the wall of the maze as a talon scraped up the spot she had just occupied. “Hippalectryon,” Siria groaned, “great.” She pointed her wand at the large, feathered, rooster-horse combination. “Pefynd Beignis!” Siria called and snapped her wand with such speed that only a small, monstrous stag erupted through.   
The stag’s horns were twisted and jagged; it sent sparks when it dragged its hoof along the ground. Siria bolted in the direction the Hippalectryon had flown from and looked over her shoulder. It charged into the Fiendfyre stag and the two erupted into a boiling bath of rainbow. Maze walls were destroyed and a wave of furrows covered the ground. “No thank you,” Siria dismissed the open area, which hissed with remnants of the Hippalectryon and Fiendfyre stag. She raised her wand before her as she marched onward.  
“Don’t know if you can hear me,” Siria confessed to the Stargazer, “but I’m doing alright and just want my dad to know.” She clicked her tongue quietly and sighed at the eerie lit Stargazer while she walked on. It was quiet in the maze. She expected a lot more creature sounds, like clanking hooves, but she also expected the maze to smell worse with all that lived in it. Mostly, it smelt like mowed grass and summer. There was also a hint of fire, which was Siria’s fault.  
Contorted cries cut through the silence and constricted Siria’s throat. Her words choked out quietly while she raced toward them. “Warrington!” Siria called, “Cassius!” She spun on her heel as the sound stopped. “Cassius!” Terror coated her voice. Siria pointed her wand at the hedge, “Sorry, not sorry!” She gulped, “Pefynd Beignis!” A monstrous stag-like being of fire charged through the wall of the maze with an enormous, fanged doggish creature. They plowed through with a path that mimicked when a cartoon character ran through a wall and left their silhouette.  
“Cassius!” Siria screamed while she sprinted through. Her Stargazer knocked into things as she ran. She skidded to a holt and turned right so quickly that she stumbled into a wall of the maze. An arm grasped blindly, tangled in the thickest wall Siria had come across. “COME BACK!” She cried after the FiendFyre, which charged onward. “Dumbledore’ll hangle it” she told herself.  
Siria shook her head and bolted to where the arm was. There was barely room to walk through with how thick the walls of the maze were. “I’m here!” Siria shouted and the arm grabbed onto her at the elbow. Siria ripped at the tangle of forest green vines that simply filled the spot she tore at with more vines.  
Bombarda— Incendio— Reducto— spells flipped through Siria’s brain like book pages, but nothing that might not hurt him. “Let go!” Siria shouted, “Let go!” She gasped and pointed her wand at the tangle “Relashio!” Nothing. “Hermione,” Siria whimpered as her own arm was pulled into the tangle. “Immobulus!” The vines paused. She drilled her knuckles into her temple. “Relashio!” She repeated to no avail.  
With all her might, Siria leaned back. She planted her feet at the base of the wall and tugged and jerled herself backward. She dragged the hand out until Cassius Warrington collapsed beside her. He gasped and coughed as the took in the air. “They— would— have— come— for— me,” Cassius gasped.  
“With what sparks?” She cried in outrage.  
“You’ve just let Krum win,” he patted his robes off and got to his feet.  
“Right,” Siria grumbled and dusted herself off. “Silly me, checking on a friend.”  
“Get out of here, Potter-Black.” Cassius turned and hurried off.  
“‘Hey, Siria, thanks’,” She rolled her eye as she retreated to the holes left by her Fiendfyre, “‘you’re my friend too’,” she muttered.  
Arms crossed, Siria stood before the Fiendfyre silhouettes. She tucked her nail between her teeth and gnawed. Would it be cheating to just walk straight through, to the center and the Triwizard Cup? If Fleur had recovered from whatever startled her, there were three people that could all use them. Would the older students know differently? Nothing Bagman had said implied that they couldn’t use something to destroy the walls and walk straight through; Siria reasoned it wasn’t in the spirit of things, but wasn’t it? She clicked her thumbnail against her teeth. They were armed with their wands and the other judges saw Siria use Fiendfyre in their evening practices— with how outraged they were, they couldn’t have forgotten.  
Almond shaped green eyes scanned the dark maze, toward the stands she couldn’t see. Hagrid was counting on her, Gryffindor was rooting for her, and she couldn’t let them down. Siria marched forward. Every step brought a new temptation to dash, to sprint, to fly full speed, but pools of creature filled water or worse could be one misstep away.  
Crimson robes cast in shadows fell into her line of sight on the path— Krum charged forward. Siria sprinted after him. As quickly as Krum came into her line of sight, he was tackled from it. Shimmering rainbow gems knocked Krum from the path. Siria closed her eyes, she tucked her head to her chin. If she stopped to help him, Cassius or Fleur would win for sure. Smoke filled the maze. It was so dense that she could barely see two walls away. She rushed into a path. “Point Me!” Siria told it. She glanced to her watch, then behind her.  
Hermione was so much better with maths, but she had to try. “Fourty-five minutes, north, but ten on Cassius, west, northwest…” She turned around and saw the burning blasted hole into the maze path to her right and took it. Cassius was yards ahead, but the Triwizard Cup was in sight. It was a lighthouse in the thick smoke of the maze.  
Just as Krum has been tackled from sight, Cassius was. Siria continued toward the Cup and ran right into the clearing with it, Cassius, an acromantulas, and a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Her gaze filtered to the Cup. She could hear Hagrid’s roar of pride at her victory. She heard Rita Skeeter’s miserable sobs— heard Tom Riddle’s blubbering cries of defeat as she lived another year. Silence washed over it all like a slammed door. Alice Travers, Astoria and Daphne Greengrass and their forced applause when Cassius entered his name. Their silent, petrified terror at the gravity of his name, devoured by the Goblet.  
“Bombarda Maxima!” Siria screamed at the ground beneath the Skrewt, which exploded and knocked it back. The acromantulas flipped through the air and crashed beside the Skrewt. Cassius groaned and picked himself up.  
“Just, take the Cup, Potter-Black,” he growled. Siria looked to the Triwizard Cup. A voice inside told her she earned it. Cassius wouldn’t be here without her. She stepped forward, but her hand hovered over the handles of the stunning Cup that her eager eyes consumed.  
“You know…” Siria whispered. “I know Krum and Fleur got help from Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, but we didn’t get help from Dumbledore.” Her hands dropped to her sides as she looked to Cassius. “You chose to help me— to help me collect myself when I was chosen, to drag me along…” a bitter smile crossed her lips. “Together?” Cassius clicked his tongue and stood beside Siria.  
“You want to share ‘eternal glory’?” he raised an eyebrow at her. She shrugged.  
“I’m the Girl Who Lived, that’s more than enough ‘glory’ to carry alone.”  
“Everyone’s been watching on the Stargazers,” he rolled his eyes.  
“You’re tempted,” she nudged him in the side with her elbow. “Cassius, you would have made it through the Tournament alone— I would still be on the ground, if I even made it this far.”  
Cassius watched the Cup, as if it were a prophet with the answer. Footsteps thundered toward them. He took one of Siria’s hands and nodded. She beamed at him. “Together!” Cassius confirmed. She chuckled and they counted together. “Three, two, one—” their hands grasped the Triwizard Cup.  
Immediately, something jerked behind her navel, their feet were off the ground, and they were bound to the Cup (B4, 635).


	33. Flesh, Blood, and Bone

**Flesh, Blood, and Bone**   


As if she were launched into it, Siria crashed into the frigid mud and rolled before she could stop herself. She stumbled when she tried to stand and settled for being knelt on the wet, muddy, grass of wherever they were. She gasped. Cassius managed to land on his feet. Siria wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Full points on the landing,” she joked.  
“Where are we?” Cassius asked as he extended her a hand. She took it then took in their surroundings with him. Hogwarts was too far to see, even the mountains near the grounds were out of sight (B4, 636). Siria tossed her robes to the ground and rummaged her jacket pockets for her eyedrops. “You were wearing that under your robes?” Cassius asked. Siria blinked as her eyes adjusted.  
“It’s my favorite jacket,” she informed him and patted the pocket with her eye drops.  
“I—” he sighed. “Well, wands out. It’s probably just part of the task— a ‘true’ final challenge or something.” She nodded and twirled her wand in her hand.  
“We’ve got an hour to figure out what we’re supposed to do and do it,” Cassius informed her. He knelt down and placed the Triwizard Cup down on a flatter spot of the muddy ground.  
“Not to be daft, but…” Siria gritted her teeth into a sorry smile.  
“You took a Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup, right?” He asked and she nodded. “It had a time to leave, so a Muggle didn’t stumble across it later. The Cup must have been set to activate at touch, so it didn’t matter when someone reached it. If that’s the case, it will take us back when we touch it— but, from what I’ve read, it might leave without us.” The two sighed and gazed around the graveyard.  
“Someone’s coming,” Cassius stepped between Siria and a figure in the distance (B4, 637). “Maybe we’ve got to beat a master duelist after all,” he tilted his head in a short nod.  
“Shouldn’t I go first then?” Siria inquired as she poked around Cassius, to see the figure. Someone short, with a hooded cloak, headed toward them with a baby like bundle in their arms (B4, 637).  
“Because you and Hermione beat Moody?” Cassius scoffed. “Not a chance.”  
Once the figure was in ten feet of them, Cassius started to back up. Siria shifted from behind him to beside him, while the Stargazer hovered above her. It cast the towering marble headstone that the figure stopped at in eerie dark light (B4, 637). “What’s this?” Cassius barked at the figure. “We’ve a Tournament to complete.” Siria turned, wide-eyed at him. That didn’t seem like a good way to start against the only other person there.  
Without the hooded person raising their wand, Siria screamed as her scar erupted into pain (B4, 637). Her hand struggled to hold her wand, but failed and it fell onto the grass (B4, 637). A voice— a cold, high voice of malice instructed “Kill the spare.” Siria lifted off the ground just as green light blackened the ground Cassius stood on not even a breath ago. He ran with Siria levitated before him, toward a small house at the edge of the garden.  
Once Cassius turned the corner, Siria stepped onto the grass. “What happened?” He took her by the shoulders and lifted her wild bangs to inspect her scar.  
“I— I don’t know,” her voice trembled. The Stargazer bumped into the fascia of the small house. Siria looked up at it while she gasped for air.  
“They’ve got some sort of cauldron. Merlin, it’s huge— you could fit a person in there” Cassius poked around the corner. He growled. “They’ve got the Cup all tied up. Okay, Potter-Black, we need a plan.”  
If only she had a plan for this sort of thing. Siria pressed her hands to her eyes. She leaned back and crouched against the little home. If there was anything she knew about herself, it was that Siria Potter-Black was not a planner. Hermione was a planner— Dumbledore was a planner. “Oh,” escaped her. “Of course.” This was where Tom Riddle returned and where Siria, the Horcrux, died… so someone else could end “Voldemort”. She placed her hand on Cassius’s shoulder. “You’ll need to summon my wand, but I’ve got a plan,” she informed him.  
“Bombarda Maxima!” Siria shouted as she rounded the corner and charged. Again and again she blasted at the main house. The blasts hit the ground floor and caused the second to collapse without its foundation. Her body went rigid and Siria fell, stiff as a board, to the ground. “Why?” Siria wondered while her body rose then hovered across the grounds, to the large marble statue. “Why didn’t we use this on Wormtail?” were she able to move, she would have struck herself. Hermione had mastered Petrificus Totalus in their first year. Remus and Sirius had used Stupefy for years.  
While the hooded figure floated Siria’s body to the marble tomb, she caught the name: Tom Riddle (B4, 638). Never had she wanted to roll her eyes more. Once her body was lined with the marble, vines shot from the ground behind her and constricted her like a panicked person in Devil’s Snare. “Hello, dinner,” hissed a shrill voice from the ground. Her experience with snakes told her the shrill voice belonged to one. The nightmares she had told her it was probably “Nagini,” not that Siria could move her head to see. Still petrified, Siria fought to move, but her body remained as still as if she were a porcelain figure.  
“Should have asked Cassius to try and bring my body back,” Siria regretted in silence. Eaten by a snake meant Sirius wouldn’t have anything to burry. “Maybe… that might be for the best,” she confessed. Death stood before her, with the hooded figure who had pushed the massive stone cauldron, to the ground at Siria’s feet. Its crystalline surface blinked at Siria with mock innocence. Unparalleled pain pierced into her scar while the hooded figure lifted the creature in the bundle from the ground. Instinct screamed for Siria to close her eyes, to turn away, to run, but her body responded to nothing. [B4, 639-640]  
Now she would have traded anything for some accidental magic. A nauseating, urine-like stench, from the creature the hooded figure lifted, assaulted Siria’s nose. Even with her body petrified, she was shocked her nose didn’t break through to wrinkle in disgust. Grey, scalish flesh stretched across what looked like it was once a child’s skeleton. Its weak arms knocked back the hood of the other figure and heat Siria had never known boiled inside her. [B4, 640-641]  
Steam should have erupted from her ears at the recognition of the that narrow nosed, thin lipped, ratish face. “Wormtail!” lava coursed through Siria’s veins. Disgust overpowered pain. Malice Siria didn’t know she had filled her. “Naturally!” Her mind snapped, “the traitorous, Azkaban-driven-mad, failed child abductor, imbecile is the one who catches me.” If only she knew a spell to set the world on fire.  
Wormtail dropped the grey, skeletal creature into the boiling cauldron. As its head sank, it turned to Siria. Slitted, red eyes met almond, green then dropped beneath the clear, glittering surface. Terror rose from Siria’s stomach in place of vomit. “No!” She commanded. “You have to die! You know this. Tom Riddle makes his return as Voldemort today, and the Girl who Lived dies, but…” anxiety tangled with the terror and twisted her stomach. “But Voldemort will be taken down,” she convinced herself. It seemed some part of her remained able to move; the part of her she hated most let a single tear push through the petrification and down her right cheek.  
“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!” Wormtail called (B4, 641). Beneath Siria’s feet, the tomb shifted and a single bone lifted into the air. It fell into the cauldron, which hissed with sparks, as if it were ice dropped into a fryer. Monkshood blue rippled across the cauldron and washed away its crystalline features. [B4, 641] Despite its floral color, the cauldron released smoke that reeked of burnt hair and sweaty feet.  
“Flesh of the servant,” Wormtail started as he withdrew a knife. Shivers shot through the paralyzed Siria. Wormtail touched the knife to his wrist with the focus of someone drawing a tattoo. “Willingly given— you will revive your master,” He raised his right hand into the cold moonlight before the cauldron. In her mind, Siria trembled and turned, but her eyes remained frozen open. Even if she could have turned, the inhuman screech that scrapped out of Wormtail would haunt her for the rest of her life. [B4, 641]  
“Not much time then,” Siria tried to joke with herself. She watched the bloodied, still boned hand tumble into the cauldron. Like Moody had in their tournament practice of dueling, Wormtail’s face contorted into deranged cackles of mad laughter. His wide eyes watched the cauldron change into a crimson that was somehow still more human than the eyes of the monster Wormtail had dropped into it. [B4, 642]  
Wormtail looked to Siria. Were she not petrified to her full height, she would have tried to straighten up. With the same knife he used to remove his hand, he approached her. Fury knocked the terror and anxiety from Siria. If Voldemort gave a show of playing with his kill, she would use whatever time she had on making sure Wormtail burned. “Don’t— don’t make that— that face,” Wormtail’s grating voice stammered. She wanted to tell him that he’d have to unpetrify her for a different face. He wiped the knife on her jacket’s shoulder. “Can’t mix the blood,” he explained and placed the knife on her right cheek, just past where her tear had broke out.  
All Siria could think of was how, if she didn’t need to die, she would Fiendfyre the entire estate. She would let it out of her with the bellow of rage trapped in her throat. Then, once all that remained was a crater of scorched earth, she would find his mother’s house and burn that too. It kept the helplessness that came with Wormtail dragging the knife down her face at bay. Her wish to burn it all kept the revolting feeling of his fingers grazing her face when he pushed the vial to her cut from taking Siria over.  
“Blood of the enemy,” Wormtail raised the vial into the moonlit sky, “forcibly taken,” Siria mentally scoffed, “you will resurrect your foe,” Wormtail commanded. Siria’s blood dripped into the cauldron. It flashed like magnesium and turned blinding white. Wormtail collapsed beside the cauldron in cackles of madness and sobs of pain. [B4, 642]  
Diamond like sparks fired from the cauldron. It was so blinding that it pushed out the moonlight. Spark after spark shot out like miniature willow fireworks until they stopped and billows of white smoke erupted from the cauldron. Siria could see nothing but the white smoke that coated the grounds.  
“Please,” Siria pleaded, “Cassius, be patient.” He would only have to wait a little longer and then he could run. The smoke danced before her in twisted ribbons. “Maybe turning the smoke to daggers…” Siria dreamt.  
“Robe me,” a high, cold disembodied voice commanded through the smoke (B4, 643).  
“Rage!” Siria demanded of herself. “Fury— rage— hate— loathing, even,” she told herself. “If you can’t accept your death with grace, at least don’t fear it. Don’t fear hope for tomorrow.” She had shared victory in the Triwizard Tournament, so she had proved that you didn’t have to be pureblood. She had reconciled with everyone, so she couldn’t have regrets— “No,” Siria thought. “There are almost too many…”  
When the smoke cleared, Siria was greeted with a sadistic smile. A tall, still skeleton with ash white skin examined Siria as if she were to be dissected. It had a flat, snakish nose and the same red eyes that watched her when it dropped into the cauldron. [B4, 645]  
Lord Voldemort had risen (B4, 645).

 

AN: I tried a different approach to citing book things by using [B4, page] at the end of the paragraphs because the biggest criticism that I get is how I cite. I feel like it kind of worked with this chapter, so I’ll try it more often. With “Death Eaters” it won’t really work since that’s pretty cannon.


	34. The Death Eaters & Priori Incantatem

**The Death Eaters & Priori Incantatem **   


[Book: B4, 644-652 Voldemort checks himself out then calls on his Death Eaters with Wormtail’s Dark Mark. Siria’s scar hurts when the red Dark Mark turns bold black. While he waits for the Death Eaters, Voldemort tells Siria that they’re at the home of his Muggle father, who Voldemort murdered. Voldy goes on that his mother was pureblood & died giving birth to him, & that he got left in a Muggle orphanage. The Death Eaters appear, grovel, are intimidated and told that Voldy’s very disappointed in them because they know he took steps to survive death and that he’s powerful. He uses the Cruciatus Curse on Avery, makes Wormtail the silver hand, then goes around the circle telling everyone that why he thinks they’re cowards &/or why people aren’t with them.]

“How did they decide who stands where?” Siria wondered as Voldemort continued around the circle. “Even Ron would get a kick out of Tom Riddle planning assigned spots,” she wanted to grin. A smile in the face of all this would be a Patronus to a dementor.   
Voldemort directed his wand at Siria and she lunged forward, only to be pushed back into the tomb by the vines that bound her. “Siria Potter has joined us for my rebirthing party,” Voldemort told them, “one might even call her the guest of honor.” (B4, 652)  
“Shame, I didn’t bring a gift,” Siria glared. Voldemort cocked his head in the same fashion of the teenage Tom Riddle.  
“Nonsense, you have brought the greatest gift I could receive,” Voldemort confessed. Wormtail shot Siria a glare. She rolled her eyes and clenched her fists. Her back remained tall and firm against the tomb.  
“As you all know, many people believe this girl my downfall,” Voldemort addressed the Death Eaters. “Her mother died to save her,” he told them as he inched toward her, “and provided an ancient form of protection I had not expected that prevented me from touching her.” He stepped onto the tomb. Voldemort was snakeskin stretched over a skeleton that towered over Siria more than Dumbledore, but she was wide enough to have tackled him easily. His spiderleg finger danced down her scar. [B4, 653]  
Even with her teeth clamped down and her tongue pressed to the roof of her mouth, a repressed scream escaped Siria. Voldemort, however, was fine. He grinned at Siria, a fly in his web.  
[Book: B4, 653-659 He talks about how he got where he was when Wormtail found him. Then he tells the Death Eaters (& explains to the readers) how he was nursed back to life & about their plan and why he needed it to be Siria’s blood. Then he uses the Cruciatus Curse on Siria. Finally, he tells Wormtail to untie her & return her wand.]

Siria stretched, wand in hand, eyes squeezed shut. She focused on the little house on the edge of the grounds. Thought of Cassius Warrington, invisible and frozen. “Rennervate!” Siria hissed between her teeth. “Rennervate!” Then she sighed and stretched the other arm. Voldemort watched her with the same hunger teenage Tom Riddle had— as if she held all the answers.  
“Have you been taught to duel, Siria Potter?” Voldemort asked with the starved light in his eyes on fire (B4, 659).  
“It’s Potter-Black, actually,” Siria corrected. His snake face moved in an almost human way as muscles that should have raised an eyebrow raised stretched flesh.  
“As in Regulus Black?”  
“My uncle— and yes,” Siria parted her feet, “I’ve been taught how to duel.”  
“Though, I can’t,” she reminded herself. “I’ve got to just roll over,” Siria rolled her eyes.  
“Then you know to bow to your partner,” Voldemort instructed while he gave a small bow (B4, 660). Siria gripped her wand and nodded her head. “No, no. Potter-Black, bow!” Pushed by a force she couldn’t see, Siria’s spine bent and the Death Eaters roared with laughter. “Good,” he grinned to himself. [B4, 660]  
[Book: B4, 660-662 Voldemort uses the Cruciatus Curse then the Imperious Curse, but Siria can fight off the second]  
“Obedience is a virtue I need to teach you before you die—” Voldemort informed her.  
“Why?” Siria snapped over him. “So they see you’re a big, bad boy that can make a girl—” Siria collapsed her knees under the pain of another wave of the Cruciatus Curse.  
“Why?” Siria asked herself. “Why can’t you keep your mouth shut— for two minutes!” Her mind shouted at her through her screams of pain. It stopped and she gasped for breath. Her throat was raw from her short torture. She scanned the graveyard— no Triwizard Cup. “Cassius is safe.” Siria told herself and tightened her grip on her wand.  
This narrow, short branch of wood with a phoenix tail feather bridged her to focused magic— to Charms and Transfiguration… to Hermione and Ron… to Sirius. When she fell, dead on the cold, mud covered grounds, it would be there. “Thank you,” she thought to it. “I’m sorry,” she confessed. Tears flooded her vision.  
“Tom, just get it over with,” Siria spat. His red eyes sparked and she collapsed in pain, again. Her teeth gritted together while she thrashed into the mud. It stopped. “I’m bored— TOM!” As if an enormous hand grabbed her like a doll, Siria rose off the ground and onto her feet. Voldemort’s ravenous red eyes glittered through the dark. In this cold graveyard, surrounded by Death Eaters and the stench of iron, they would be the last thing she saw.  
Trickles of moonlight cracked through the clouds she hadn’t noticed. They hit the tomb of Tom Riddle and cast it in an almost kind grey light. Voldemort raised his wand “Goodbye, Siria Potter-Black— Avada Kedavra!”  
“EXPELLIARMUS!” Siria bellowed. Her arm had moved of its own accord and not because of the invisible force of another. Tears slipped through and dripped down her face while her beam of red crashed into the jet of green from Voldemort’s wand.   
There had to be another way. Why did she need to die at fourteen, alone, in the Riddle Family graveyard? No matter how narrowly she escaped, she would. She would live. This is not where Siria Potter-Black would let herself die.  
[Book: B4, 663-668 their wands release the threads of golden light (Cassius does NOT come out). Frank (the old man) comes out the wand, then Bertha Jorkins, then Lily Potter]

“Your father’s coming,” Lily Potter told Siria (B4, 667). Her voice was quiet, but Siria heard it perfectly.  
“Sirius takes really good care of me!” Siria shouted to her mother. “I have a lot of good friends! I eat well!” Words seemed to just explode from her with the will to assure her deceased mother that she was fine, that their sacrifice was not in vain. The wand trembled so furiously it sent jolts of shocking pain through her hand. “I’m really happy—I love Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts— even though I’m lousy and hate Snape, I actually like Potions too—”  
Messy hair, bed head worthy even, formed from the tip of Voldemort’s wand. It was followed by the rest of a misty James Potter. He walked near Siria and stood beside Lily. He lowered his voice, quieter than Lily had. “When the connection breaks, sprint and call for Kreacher,” James Potter instructed.  
“He’ll get you to safety,” Lily Potter added. She tucked a strand of Siria’s hair behind her ear.  
“Do you understand?” James asked.  
“I do!” Siria nodded.  
“NOW!” Lily, James, and Siria agreed. She bolted like the ground crumbled just behind her. “Stupefy!” Siria shouted with her want over her shoulder. “Stupefy!” She slid behind a grave as her heart screeched through her chest. “Pefynd Beignis!” Siria cried over the tombstone. Monstrous flames burst from Siria’s wand. Like the flames would eat her if she stayed, she bolted.  
“Stun her!” Voldemort screamed. A grin broke out over Siria’s face; there was a wave of fire between her and the Death Eaters. They wouldn’t be stunning her today. A glance over her shoulder revealed Death Eaters closed in around Voldemort. In a rush of hot wind, a flare of wild, crazed red flame in the form of bestial creatures bolted passed Siria. Mirroring a wave crashing against the cliffs, it hit her own wall of monstrous flames. Rather than merging into a giant monster, the combined flames split into tornados of almost average sized monsters. She turned away too late to miss a Fiendfyre creature knock down a Death Eater. Its flamed fangs pierced into the body before it boiled and dissipated beneath the Fiendfyre.  
WHAM!  
Siria ran straight into something warm and, turned her head, that towered over her with a furrowed brow. She scoffed with relief and disbelief as the gruff and unmistakable voice of Cassius Warrington called “Accio Portkey!” He turned Siria around.  
“I will kill her! She is mine!” Voldemort shirked into the night, but Cassius and Siria snagged the Triwizard Cup together. Siria was jerked by the navel. She and Cassius were whirled off the ground, into a wind and color, away from the furious cries that pierced the night. They were going back. [B4, 669]


	35. The Confession

**The Confession**   


“You didn’t follow the plan!” Siria screamed while she and Cassius Warrington whipped through the air.  
“Neither did you!” Cassius barked back.  
“Don’t let me be apologize for it,” she said.  
“Never,” he assured her, as their feet hit the ground. Cassius yanked Siria by the elbow, to keep her on her feet. They stood, back to back and wands at the ready. Faces blurred around them. Someone had mowed the maze down to inch tall walls. She saw the backsides of the four mirrors, which hovered over their heads.  
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. The ground spun beneath her as bits and pieces of the murmurs caught her ears. “Is that blood?” Siria rubbed her face. “It’s a prank, right?” She pressed her back closer to his. “How could it be?” She raised her head higher “What’re they doing?” She dragged her foot back and into Cassius’s. Neither of them could move without exposing the other.  
“Cassius, Siria,” the clear voice of Albus Dumbledore washed over and blanketed the stadium in silence. He approached them, alone, and with empty hands.  
“I— I,” Siria stammered. Cassius elbowed her. “Voldemort is back.” The murmurs returned.  
“Now, Siria,” Cornelius Fudge, with his lime green bowler hat tucked under his arm, shook his head, “don’t be ridiculous.” Cassius looked over his shoulder and Siria’s.  
“You two have been through great deal tonight,” Dumbledore noted. “It is only natural that you are on your guard, but your parents are here and we all know they are not Death Eaters.” Her tear filled eyes swept through, to the massive man with curly dark hair. He was beside a heavily scarred man with greying hair and held the hand of a noble looking gentleman.  
“Dad!” Siria cried as Cassius stepped away and called “Mother.”  
People parted in a flash. A great divide around Cassius and Siria. In the arms of Sirius, she collapsed as silent tears burst from her eyes. Remus put an arm over the two of them, but it was nothing to Hagrid, who swept all three of them into a hug. “DAD!” Siria wept.  
“You’re fine,” Sirius assured her as much as himself. “You’re safe. You’re here.” She clung to the back of his jacket and her head trembled in an attempt to nod. Hagrid placed them down, but kept them in a hug.  
“How did Regulus do it?” Siria asked. “I tried, but— but my arm,” Sirius shook his head and pulled her closer.  
“No.” He whispered. “There has to be another way. Remus and I—” Sirius leaned back to take in the tear stained, cut face of his daughter. “We’ll find another way, together.” Hagrid let out an earth shaking sob.  
“Yer can— yer can bet yer bonnet on it!” Hagrid stammered. He swept them off the ground again and swung them from side to side as a child would their most beloved toy.  
A hand reached through arms wrapped around Siria and tugged. Hagrid let go, as did Remus and Sirius. Siria turned to see Cassius’s pale hand. “We should go to the Hospital Wing,” He told her.  
“Now?” Siria asked, with a hand still on Sirius’s jacket. Her wide emerald eyes looked into his fogged marbles. Professor Moody’s words, “it’s all in the eyes,” echoed into her head. How did she tell Sirius? Could the person controlling Cassius hear what he heard?  
“Y—yeah,” Siria agreed and tightened her grip on Sirius before she left him go and gave the spot a pat. She turned to look at them. “Looks like…” her eyes shifted from Hagrid to Remus then Sirius, “the Hospital Wing is calling Warrington like the Wil—low called me.” Sirius gripped Siria’s arm tighter from reflex then released her completely.  
“Of course! We’ll go…” Sirius’s breath fell.  
“Get Snuffles,” Remus finished and placed his hand on Sirius’s shoulder. “Madam Pomfrey can’t say ‘no’ after the night you’ve been through.”  
“I ought ter go rangle those beauties from the maze,” Hagrid said with a wink. Sirius and Siria pressed their eyes closed.  
Cassius and, of all people, Cornelius Fudge led the way back toward the castle. Fudge told them “things’ll be fine,” and “it was just a trick of the maze,” but Cassius didn’t reply. Weighted worry filled Siria. There was a Death Eater at Hogwarts and while it wasn’t the Minister of Magic, he was doing a poor job of convincing Siria. “Powerful wizard, Dumbledore. He’s very good at enchantments— so sorry about that scare,” Fudge patted Siria on the shoulder and her eyes rolled.  
“STUPEFY!” Cassius cried the moment they stepped into the Entrance. Siria flinched, but it was Fudge that he had been stunned.  
“Cassius!” Siria shrieked.  
“He could have been a Death Eater,” whoever controlled Cassius told her through him.  
“Oh!” Siria exclaimed in her best rendition of a “yes, of course; I believe you” voice. “Duh!” She smacked her palm to forehead. When he continued to lead the way, she pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.  
“I’m glad we’re taking the long way,” Siria said with the hope of convincing his controller that she had not realised they were headed somewhere else. “Remus and Sirius went to get Snuffles— you know, the bear of a dog from the second task,” Siria turned over her shoulder again. A consistent clank had followed them. “Please be Moody,” she hoped.  
Then they arrived. Any hope or trust Siria had after tonight plummeted through her when Cassius opened the door. “Are we hiding out here?” Siria asked through her constricted throat.  
“He’ll understand best,” Cassius’s puppeteer told her.  
“Yeah,” Siria forced a smile and stepped into the office of their professor, Moody. She suppressed a shuddered when Cassius closed the door behind them.  
“STUPEFY!” Siria shouted and Cassius was stunned. She hoisted up and dragged him. “Urgh,” Siria groaned while she pulled him across the ground, her elbows locked under his arms with her wand out and at the door. With another groan, Siria put Cassius down behind Moody’s massive trunk. Even though Moody’s magic eye could probably see her, she sat beside Cassius. “Gotta teach you how to resist,” she sighed and patted his stunned head.  
Six shadows in the Foeglass charged toward them. “Dumbledore, Remus, Sirius, Hagrid…” Siria listed, “McGonagall?” she wondered. They were all too tall to be Flitwick, but one had the sharp shoulders of Professor McGonagall. Clank. ClanK. Siria pressed her eyes closed. ClaNK. ClANK. She dashed around the trunk, to Moody’s desk. CLANK. Siria pointed her wand to the door.  
“Bombarda Maxima!” Siria’s hoarse voice pierced the air beneath the blast of Moody’s office door exploding. “Dumbledore trusted you!” She screamed at the man in the doorway. Yellow crackled toward her “Protego!” Siria sent it to the ceiling. “Flipendo!” She retorted, but it hummed along Moody’s Shield Charm and hit the ground.  
“Don’t be like this, Potter,” Moody growled and sent a jet of violet at her. Siria directed it into his bookshelf, which revved before it spat out the top shelf of books. She leapt over the desk. “Ebublio!” Nothing, “Petrifi—” she jolted to her left as crimson crashed into Moody’s desk and ruptured it into splinters.  
“Stupefy!” but it thudded off his Shield Charm like rain on a windshield. “Stupefy!”  
“That only worked because of Granger,” Moody cackled with another crackle of yellow. “You can’t beat me on your own— just tell me, Potter, how did you get away?”  
“What?” Siria gasped, breathless as she knocked another crackle to the ground.  
“How did you escape the Dark Lord?” Moody roared. “What have you done to my master’s wand?” Siria had inched back and into Moody’s trunk. Panic hit her like a stun.  
“You— you want to— to know?” Siria stammered. She lowered the very tip of her wand. The six figures in the Foeglass were so close that she could make out Dumbledore’s glasses.  
“Surely, you know all about how my mother sacrificed herself?” Siria asked, “to save me?” Moody’s non-magic eye squinted at her. “Well, that’s not quite it,” she said. Though, as far as Siria knew, that was exactly it. “As one of his loyal—”  
“His MOST LOYAL!” Moody howled.  
“Most loyal, of course— his most loyal,” Siria nodded. “As his most loyal servant you know why he came for me,”  
“The prophecy,” Moody cursed like it was a foul word that tainted the air.  
“The prophecy?” Siria repeated, but the heightened pitch told Moody there was a question.  
“LIAR!” Moody bellowed and sent green at Siria. She dropped to the ground and the Foeglass erupted into a shatter of black.  
“Hewantstokillmehimself!” Siria spat out and jumped to her feet. “Expelliarmus!” Moody knocked her jet of red light down then froze. “Finally!” Siria groaned and, hand over her heart, sat down on Moody’s trunk. She smiled at the people in the reflection of the shattered Foeglass, even if she was surprised to see Snape.  
Before her, with his eyes lit with a fire she could relate to, stood Albus Dumbledore. The weight of his presences and severity of his glare conveyed to her why so many people feared him… and why Voldemort did too. No one moved until Dumbledore entered and surveyed the room. [B4, 679]  
“Siria!” Sirius knocked the stunned Moody onto the floor. Still breathless, Siria raised her hand halfway then let it drop to her side. He hugged her. Hagrid lifted the imposter off the ground with a snarl.  
“Don’t,” Remus cautioned, “however much he would deserve it.”  
“Cassius,” Siria pushed Sirius back and pointed her wand to Cassius. “Rennervate!” He gasped and flew up.  
“Don’t!” He shouted. Cassius grabbed hold of Siria’s arm. “I couldn’t stop,” Cassius confessed.  
“I know; it’s okay. Sorry for stunning you,” she told him.  
“Don’t be,” Cassius got to his feet.  
“So, is anyone going to tell us why or even how the ex-Auror, known friend of Dumbledore, Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor turned out to be a Death Eater?” Cassius asked them.  
“Because that is not Alistair Moody. You have never met Alistair Moody,” Dumbledore informed them (B4, 680). With a flick of her hands, Siria gestured to the stunned Moody on the floor.  
“The imposter is just a Master of Transfiguration or— or what? Polyjuice brewing?” Siria scoffed. Cassius’s jaw dropped. Siria looked from him to Dumbledore. “Seriously?”  
Dumbledore dumped the contents of the Moody imposter’s flash onto the ground. A glutenous, burnt walnut smelling Potion poured out. Snape glared at it the way he glared at Siria. “You see the genius in the simplicity, for Moody only ever drinks from his own flask,” Dumbledore explained [B4, 682].  
“Minerva, please collect collect the house elf named Winky. Severus, please bring your strongest truth serum. Remus, if you would find the Warringtons, please have them join us.” Dumbledore instructed (B4,680). The three nodded and set out immediately. Sirius wrapped an arm around Siria. She patted the spot beside them on the trunk and Cassius sat down.  
“But where is the real Moody then?” Siria asked. Dumbledore removed a set of keys from the stunned imposter.  
“I suspect, in there,” Dumbledore told them. The three hopped off the trunk. Cassius took Moody’s desk chair. Sirius leaned against the bookshelf, but Siria remained to watch Dumbledore.  
[Book: B4, 681-682 the contents of Moody’s trunk include Moody]  
Hagrid reached down and pulled the real Alistair Moody from the trunk.  
When everyone was collected again in Moody’s office there was the real Moody, from the trunk, and a straw haired man Siria had seen once before. She slapped her hand to her mouth then pointed, wordlessly. Sirius nodded. They circled around as Winky sobbed and approached the man. “What has you done?” Winky sobbed, “Master’s son! You have killed my master’s son!” she shrieked (B4, 683).  
[Book: B4, 683 Dumbledore gives Crouch Jr. the veritaserum]  
Under the effects of the veritaserum, Bartemius Crouch Jr. explained how Voldemort and Wormtail found Bertha Jorkins. When they tortured her for information about the Triwizard Tournament and Mad-Eye Moody going to teach at Hogwarts; they broke the memory cham that Mr. Crouch had placed on Bertha Jorkins and learned Barty Crouch Jr. was still alive and loyal. Voldemort and Wormtail came for him, put his father under the Imperius Curse. He and Wormtail went to Moody’s, where they stuffed him in his trunk and Barty Jr. took his place. [B4, 684-691]  
In the monotonous voice, he continued to confess how he put Siria’s name into the Goblet of Fire under a fourth school then helped her through each task. For the first he suggested she fly. In the second he planted the book in Neville’s hands. Finally, he cursed things out of Siria’s path and sicked the Blast-Ended Skrewt on Fleur, the firecrab on Krum, and the acromantulas on Cassius in the third task. [B4, 684-691]  
“And now,” Barty Crouch Jr. gave an almost tired grin, “my Master has returned,” he finished (B4,691). Mrs. Warrington placed a hand on her son’s shoulder. She and Mr. Warrington looked to Dumbledore, then Siria, before they fell back onto their son. Hagrid, Remus, and Sirius cradled Siria between them. She pressed her hands to her eyes, with her wand still in her grip. Silently, she screamed into the room. Sirius tapped his head against hers. Only the quiet hum of their combined breath sounded. Even Winky’s sobs had stopped.  
“Minerva, if you would stand guard here, please.” Dumbledore requested. He looked to Cassius and his family then to Siria and hers. “If the six of you would join me at my office, for a moment before the Hospital Wing,” he urged. Siria took a sharp breath, but nodded.  
“Hagrid, would you please help Alistar to the Hospital Wing?” Dumbledore asked. Hagrid raised Moody in the air as if he were a straw doll then left. “Servus, could you please collect Fudge? He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself,” Dumbledore instructed (B4, 692-693). Snape shot Sirius a glare before he swept out of the room.  
Dumbledore led the way to his office in silence and summoned a semi-circle lavender sofa for them. Siria sat in the middle, with Cassius and his family to her left and Sirius and Remus to her right. “Let me guess,” Siria sighed, as Fawkes the phoenix landed on her knee, “the Stargazers can’t hear?” Sirius squeezed her shoulder. “Fair,” she clicked her tongue and stared at Fawkes’s soft eyes. “It’ll be like the Chamber of Secrets,” she reasoned with herself.  
“Surely this can wait until morning,” a gruff voice said to Siria’s left. She looked to see Cassius’s father had spoken. Mr. Warrington was tall, like his son, and had very little neck, like Uncle Vernon. “They’ve both been through an ordeal.”  
“Honestly, I agree,” Sirius confessed.  
“Cassius, Siria, if I believed that numbing your pain would make recounting your experience easier, I would. However, it is my experience that it would only make things more difficult on you,” Dumbledore reasoned (B4,695) . “You two have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you demonstrate your courage one more time. Please, tell us what happened,” he urged them (B4, 695).  
Siria sighed, “Even though I didn’t die?” Siria asked with her face toward her lap.  
“Especially,” Cassius blurted. He cleared his throat into his fist. “It’s easier to die than keep fighting,” he said. Siria smoothed Fawkes’s feathers and nodded. Her chest raised with the deep breath she took.  
“Kill the spare,” Siria repeated. She scratched behind her ear and looked to Cassius. “That’s what Voldemort said…”  
“Then the other guy— Wormtail, he tried. I thought he was going to Siria,” Cassius confessed.  
“Thank goodness,” Siria let out a soft chuckle. “It meant you got us both out.”  
“So you could tell me your ‘plan’,” Cassius elbowed her arm.  
“Then stun you and do the real plan,” she chimed.  
Words fell out of them as they recounted their plan: Cassius cast an Invisibility Charm on himself and the Stargazer. Then Siria stunned him and stuck the Stargazer to the side of the little house, where it broadcast the rest. She recounted Wormtail’s spell over the cauldron then pulled her sweaty, blood hair from her face to show where Wormtail drew blood.  
“Voldemort said that he’d have my mother’s protection, and he could touch me…” Siria rested her head to Fawkes’s. It filled her with warmth. “It wasn’t as bad at the Cruciatus Curse, but I wouldn’t exactly sign up for a repeat,” she added (B4, 696). Dumbledore rose and circled his desk. There was a light of triumph in his eyes, until he sat back down with an even more worn expression than Cassius or Siria (B4, 696).  
“I left the Stargazer, so it might still be there, then Charmed the Triwizard Cup and freed it,” Cassius explained. “The Death Eaters were so focused on You-Know— Voldemort,” Cassius clenched his mother’s hand when she flinched. “I’d seen Siria run, she always sprints like goblins are chasing her, so I hopped onto a tomb. I hoped to curse You—Voldemort,” Cassius corrected himself, “I was going to curse Voldemort, but,” he turned to Siria.  
“But the wands connected and you could not be sure Siria would be safe,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Priori Incantatem,” he nodded. “Wands of the same core do not work well against each other. If their owners forced them to duel, one wand will force the other to regurgitate its most recent spells.”[B4, 697]  
“Then that really was James and Lily,” Sirius uttered in barely a whisper.  
“Not necessarily,” Dumbledore said. “There is no spell to bring the dead back to life. What Voldemort’s wand released were merely echos of them,” he explained (B4, 697).  
“It doesn’t matter what they are,” Siria shook her head, “they got me out alive”’ She turned to Sirius and Remus. “My father told me to run like hell and call Kreacher because he’d get me to safety.” Cassius coughed into his hand and Siria’s face flushed.  
“You forgot what you said,” Cassius noted in a louder voice. She glared over her shoulder.  
“I told them I got it,” she snapped. Cassius grinned.  
“Before that,” he teased. Siria tsked and looked to one of the portraits on the wall. “I think your dad would want to hear.”  
“Hear what?” Sirius asked. Scarlet stained Siria’s face.  
“She told them that you’re taking good care of her and she’s really hap—” he winced when Siria elbowed him.  
“Anyways,” Siria shouted. “You all probably saw, but, when our wands broke apart, I ran like hell and Fiendfyred my way out. Tom,” she placed her other hand over Sirius’s and focused on the compassion, not the worry, in her father’s eyes before she looked to the exhausted Dumbledore. “Little Tommy Riddle didn’t much like my escape,” Siria confessed. “He wanted them to stun me… in fact,” Siria held her breath in a last attempt to steady her roaring heart, “the last thing I heard was him shouting he’ll kill me.” She clicked her tongue and tapped her feet together.  
“Last I heard was him crying ‘she’s mine!’,” Cassius bumped his shoulder into Siria’s. “Didn’t Wormtail read him the paper? You’re not into snakes,” he joked with the same grin as before still on his face. A smile cracked over Siria’s lips though she shut her eyes to ignore it. Smiles cracked through the room. From her heart, a laugh escaped. It echoed into the room and out of Cassius, then Sirius and Remus. Mrs. Warrington didn’t know why, but she chuckled as well. Mr. Warrington’s chuckled followed his wife’s. For one warm, short moment, there was laughter and that was what Siria had lived for.


	36. The Parting of the Ways

**The Parting of the Ways**   


When Dumbledore pushed open the doors of the hospital wing there was a very harassed looking Madam Pomfrey (B4, 699). She was surrounded by the Weasleys, the Creeveys, Siria’s dormmates, Travers, Maddy, Patricia, Cedric, and Fleur Delacour— asking where Cassius and Siria were. They all turned to the open doors. Dumbledore stepped forward and addressed the wing.  
“Listen to me, please,” Dumbledore requested, “the two have been through a terrible ordeal and had have to relive it for me. What they need now is sleep and peace. If they would like you to stay, you are welcome, but I must insist you do not question them.” [B4, 699]. Mrs. Weasley, very pale, rounded on the others.  
“You heard him,” she noted, “they need peace and quiet!” Mrs. Creevey nodded with a hand around each of her boys. [B4, 699-700]  
“Once I’ve spoken with Fudge, I’ll return,” Dumbledore informed them. He placed a hand on Cassius shoulder and the other on Siria’s. “I do not need to remind you that you have shown courage just as great as those who fought Voldemort last time, but do remember that you are still able to be weak,” Dumbledore reminded them (B4, 699). “You are not alone,” he offered them a small smile before he took his leave.  
Cassius’s dark eyes were tired when he extended his arms to Travers, who burst into tears when she fell into them. The Slytherins and Warringtons pulled into a group hug while Siria was swallowed by the arms of her fellow Gryffindors. “Get in here,” Mrs. Weasley urged Cedric and Fleur, who joined the hug.  
“Now,” Sirius broke them up, “Poppy, could Siria use your sink?” He asked as he ushered Siria forward. “Can’t sleep with contacts,” he reminded her. Madam Pomfrey took Siria to the sink and offered her a washcloth.  
For the first time since morning, Siria saw her reflection. Where confidence had greeted her in the morning, defeat greeted her in the pale light of the hospital wing washroom. She washed her hands and removed the contacts, which she had to toss into the waste bin. Then she splashed water onto her face before she squirted some more soap onto her hands and washed away the sweat and dried blood. Siria gazed at her own reflection. She held down her left eyelid to see the bottom of her lightning bolt scar.  
“Siria,” Hermione called, “did you want a hand?”  
“What are you going to do?” Parvati hissed, “I can fix your hair,” she called to Siria.  
“Don’t think anyone could fix that,” George joked.  
“I can hear you!” Siria shouted as she changed into the pajamas Madam Pomfrey provided. She pulled the door open and glared at him. “I’ve had enough rudeness, thank you,” she defended and looked to Parvati. “Could you help though?” She asked.  
Mrs. Weasley and Sirius flattened Siria’s already neat bedspread. Siria sat with her back against the cool railing. Lavender and Parvati fought to untangle Siria’s mangled braid. “I know what happened, but honestly,” Parvati tsked as she dropped the greyed ribbon into Siria’s lap.  
“Did you get attacked by a mad hairdresser?” Lavender shook her head then smacked her hand to her mouth.  
“I wish!” Cassius grinned from his bed, beside Siria’s. “Siria could have handled that on her own,” he assured them.  
“I would have accepted your help with a hairdresser,” Siria smirked. She looked up to Hermione and took her hand. “I can’t believe we’re cracking jokes,” she stifled a sob and pressed her head to Hermione’s hand.  
“No,” Hermione shook her head and threw her arms around Siria. “No, no— don’t be sorry!” She shuddered. “We thought we lost you and we couldn’t be happier you’re okay!”  
“Hell, Siria,” Ron hugged them both. In the unfolding of a fan, they were cuddled back up to Siria. She clutched the back on Ron’s robes and nodded.  
“You ought to get some sleep,” Mrs. Creevey said. “We’ll be here when you wake up,” she smoothed out Siria’s hair. Cassius took a sip of his goblet and Sirius extended the other one to Siria. She sighed over the rim it.  
“It smells like lavender,” Siria said over a sip. Lavender sniffed,  
“I smell way better,” she joked.  
“That’s debatable,” Hermione said. Lavender pushed Hermione’s shoulder, lightly. Siria left just a bit at the bottom. Dumbledore would be back soon. She wanted to catch what was coming.

Loud murmurs or muffled shouts stirred Siria. She groaned, but the hand on her head was so cool and the room was so warm. Her eyelids were still so heavy in the dim room that it couldn’t hurt to keep them closed. There was a soft hum of quiet chatter she recognized as Bill and Fleur, but it hadn’t woken her. She caught the shuffling of cards, but that was nothing to voices that grew louder.  
“What is Fudge shouting about?” Sirius growled.  
“The Minister of Magic?” Mrs. Creevey asked.  
“Nothing else could have happened tonight,” said Mrs. Weasley.  
“That’s McGonagall,” Remus said when the other voice spoke. Siria grumbled and sat up, but found a hand on each her shoulders and one on her head try to push her back to the bed. [B4, 700]  
“It’s nothing,” Mrs. Weasley assured her. Siria groaned again and rubbed her eyes.  
“No,” Sirius sighed and let go of one of her shoulders. He handed Siria her glasses.  
The room came into focus. Colin was sound asleep on Fred’s shoulder, while Dennis had fallen asleep on George’s lap. The twins sat in a circle, with Fay, Lavender, Maddy, Patricia, and Parvati, who were playing cards. Cedric and Travers sat beside the Warringtons, where Cassius woke as well. Bill and Fleur sat on the bed to Siria’s right. Hermione and Ron sat on the end of Siria’s bed; she gave them a tired smile, which turned into a yawn.  
“Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva—” Fudge said loudly as he and Professor McGonagall came closer to the hospital wing (B4, 701).  
“You should have never brought it into the castle!” yelled McGonagall. “When Dumbledore finds out—” and the doors of the hospital wing flew open. Fudge marched in with Professor McGonagall and Snape right behind him (B4, 702).  
“Where is Dumbledore?” Fudge demanded of Sirius.  
“Not here,” Sirius replied through gritted teeth.  
“Minister, this is a hospital wing, don’t you—” Mrs. Weasley began, but Dumbledore swept into the ward (B4, 702). He took in Professor McGonagall’s thinned lips and arched eyes, then Snape’s glare at Fudge.  
“What has happened?” Dumbledore asked them (B4, 702).  
“When we told Mr. Fudge, he seemed to feel his personal safety was at risk— and insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him. He brought it to the office where Barty Crouch—” said Snape in a low voice.  
“I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!” Professor McGonagall fumed. “We told him you would never allow dementors into the castle, but—” (B4, 702)  
“My dear woman,” Fudge shouted (B4, 703). Siria clicked her tongue and shook her head. For as angry as Fudge was, it was nothing to the fury that boiled out of Professor McGonagall. Her voice swallowed his as it boomed through the hospital wing.  
“The moment that— that this entered the room it swooped down on Crouch and— and—” but she did not need to finish. Even Fudge fell silent for a moment. The dementor had issued its greatest weapon, the dementors kiss, and sucked Barty Crouch Jr.’s soul from him. [B4, 703]  
“Now he cannot provide his testimony,” said Dumbledore. He stared at Fudge as if he saw him for the first time. “He cannot explain why he has done what he has.” [B4, 703]  
“Why? Well, that’s no mystery, is it?” Fudge blurted. “He was a raving lunatic! From what Minerva and Severus tell me, he thinks it was all on You-Know-Who’s instructions!” [B4, 703]  
“Voldemort was giving Crouch instructions, Cornelius. They planned to restore Voldemort to full strength and have succeeded,” Dumbledore explained (B4, 703).  
Fudge stepped back. He scanned the room, as if he expected to see one of them holding a sign saying “Just Kidding!” There was no sign. Fudge shook his head and told Dumbledore it was preposterous. Dumbledore informed him of Barty Crouch Jr.’s confession under veritaserum, then Cassius and Siria’s testimonies as well, but Fudge looked less and less convinced. [B4, 704]  
“I’ll take the veritaserum!” Siria blurted before she knew the words were out of her mouth.  
“We’ll let you take the memories!” Cassius added.  
“Dumbledore’s got that pen— pen— the memory basin thing,” Siria nodded at Cassius then Fudge.  
“HA!” Fudge scoffed and shot Sirius a vile glare, “of course she would.” Siria looked to her father with a breathless expression of “what did you do?” His brow furrowed slightly. In silent reply, Sirius mouthed “later.”  
“Fine!” Siria called, “forget the veritaserum, what about the memories?” She proposed.  
“Memories can be modified,” Fudge argued. Siria cradled her head in her hands. He was intent to fight them. “Furthermore, Dumbledore you are prepared to take Siria’s word on this, are you?” He had a curious smile on his face, which grew when Dumbledore agreed. Siria’s heart sank. [B4, 704]. She pressed her eyes closed.  
“Rita Skeeter,” her whispered carried through the room.  
“You believe the lies that—” and Sirius used a word that made half the room gasp “— writes about my daughter!” Sirius shouted. “Suppose you believe heaps of bodies were taken out of the wood at the World Cup too, do you?” Remus placed his hand on Sirius’s shoulder, but glared at Fudge with him.  
“Lies?” Fudge asked, “There have been more accounts of the girl being a Parselmouth— she announced it in the first task with the giant snake. Then the nightmares— possibly even hallucinations?” [B4, 705]  
“We can give you names!” Siria urged. “Malfoy—” (B4, 706)  
“Malfoy was cleared!” said Fudge, outraged that she would even name him. “Not to mention your history with the family,” he snapped. (B4, 706)  
“Macnair— Avery— Nott—” Siria listed (B4, 706)  
“You are merely repeating names of those acquitted thirteen years ago!” said Fudge (B4, 706).   
“One of them died!” Cassius called. His father’s hand snapped to Cassius’s shoulder with a look of terror. Cassius knocked the hand away. “In the Fiendfyre— one of them got tackled to the ground and melted.”  
“Unlikely,” Fudge snapped.  
“And the Stargazers?” Siria asked.  
“Designed by a Black and—,” Fudge refuted with a glare to Remus. Siria’s jaw fell, but snapped closed as she shook her head. Sirius held his hand out to stop Siria from advancing on Fudge.  
“Fudge, if you wanted to see how they work, you only had to ask,” Sirius offered through gritted teeth.  
“You all sound determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!” shouted Fudge. Siria mouthed, wordlessly to Hermione and Ron. They didn’t know of a way to fix this. Dumbledore tried to advise that Fudge remove the dementors and speak with the giants. He told Fudge that too much worth was placed in blood “purity”, yet Barty Crouch Jr. came from a pureblood family and became a murderer and Death Eater. [B4, 708]  
“If your determination to shut your eyes will carry you as far as this, Cornelius, then we have reached a parting of the ways. You must act as you see fit and I— I shall act as I do,” said Dumbledore (B4, 709). The silence was tangible. Dumbledore’s voice sounded like a statement, just as non-threatening as small talk about the weather.  
“Now, you see here, Dumbledore,” Fudge said as he waved his finger, “I’ve given you free rein; I’ve had a lot of respect for you, might not have agreed with some of your decisions, but I kept quiet. Not many Ministers would let you hire a werewolf—” Remus pulled Sirius back into his chair and Mrs. Weasley thrust Siria back down. “—or let you keep Hagrid, or even let you teach without reference to the Ministry, but if you’re going to work against me—” [B4, 709]  
“The only one I intend to work against is Voldemort,” said Dumbledore, calm as the night outside. “If you are against him, then we remain, Cornelius, on the same side.”  
“He can’t be back, Dumbledore, he just can’t be…” Fudge pleaded. A strange tangle of hope and hopelessness hung in voice; if Dumbledore said Voldemort had not returned, then that would be truth, but if he confirmed, maybe there was still hope Voldemort was still gone. Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, and pulled up his left sleeve. Fudge recoiled. [B4, 709]  
“There,” Snape snarled. “There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can see—” Fudge stepped back. “Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight?” [B4, 709]  
“I don’t know what you and your staff are playing at Dumbledore, but I’ve heard enough. I will be in touch with you, tomorrow, to discuss the running of this school, but I must return to the Ministry,” Fudge said and hurried to the door. He paused “Your winnings,” he tossed tow bags onto the floor, crammed his bowler hat on, and slammed the door behind him. [B4, 710]  
“An’ zat ez your Minister?” Fleur shook her head.  
Dumbledore turned to the rest of the room. Cassius stood up with a nod to Dumbledore.  
“Whatever you’re planning, I’m in,” Cassius told him.  
“And me!” Siria tried to sit up, but Sirius and Mrs. Weasley each stretched an arm over her. “Dad!” She hissed, but Sirius looked over his shoulder.  
“We’re in, of course!” Mrs. Warrington stood beside her son and looked to Dumbledore. “You-Know-Who,” she squeezed her eyes shut, “Voldemort,” she shuddered, “tried to murder my son and I won’t stand by and let that happen.”  
“There is a lot of work to be done,” Dumbledore informed them. Sirius put a hand on Siria’s shoulder and stood. Mrs. Weasley rose with them, then Mr. Warrington. “Am I right in thinking I may count on you then?” he asked Molly and Mrs. Warrington.  
“We know what Fudge is,” Mrs. Weasley told him. “It’s Arthur’s fondness for Muggles that has kept him at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper Wizarding pride.” [B4, 711]  
“Anything we can do,” Mrs. Warrington said and looked to her husband, who nodded.  
“I need to send a message to Arthur, all those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as short sighted as Cornelius,” Dumbledore explained. [B4, 711]  
“I’ll go to Dad— I can leave now,” Bill said and stood up. Dumbledore warned him to be discreet, but Bill assured him he would (B4, 711).  
“Willow, if you would go to Saint Mungo’s, talk with anyone you think is trustworthy,” asked Dumbledore.  
“I’ll go now,” Mrs. Warrington kissed her son then her husband. “Time is of the essence” She nodded to Sirius when she past and stood before Siria’s bed for a moment, as Bill ruffled up Siria’s hair, kissed his mother on the cheek, and pulled on his cloak. They headed to the door together, where Bill waved to Fleur, then left. [B4, 711].  
“Minerva, I want to see Hagrid in my office, as soon as possible,” said Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall nodded and hurried out. He turned to Fleur, “Ms. Delacour, would you ask Madame Maxime if she would consent to visiting my office as well?”  
“Of course!” Fleur assured him. She pecked Cassius on the cheek, which caused Travers to glare at her until Fleur pecked Siria’s cheek as well. Fleur bowed her head to Dumbledore and excused herself. [B4, 711]  
Then Dumbledore asked Madam Pomfrey to see to Winky, who was in Professor Moody’s office. He assured her that Dobby would take care of Winky. Though she looked startled, Madam Pomfrey left. Dumbledore turned to Snape then Remus and Sirius. Sirius and Snape sensed what was coming and glared at the other. [B4, 711-712]  
“For the short term, I will settle for a lack of open hostility,” Dumbledore told them. “We are on the same side and time is too short to stand apart.” Siria sighed, but tilted her eyes to Sirius and gestured, with them, to Snape. “You will shake hands.”  
“Dad,” Siria urged. Though Sirius and Snape met in the middle, they shook hands in a second and nearly marched back to their previous spots in the room.  
“Now, I have work for each of you. Fudge’s attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Remus, Sirius, alert the old crowd. See if any are still willing to stand with the Order. Lie low and I’ll contact you soon,” Dumbledore instructed (B4, 713). Siria took hold of Sirius’s wrist with both her hands and squeezed her eyes shut.  
“I’ll see you over summer,” Siria promised. Sirius pecked the top of her head then he and Remus hugged her.  
“We’ll see you soon,” Sirius told her.  
“Chloe may pick you up,” Remus added. Siria nodded.  
“Love you,” she murmured.  
“More than magic,” Sirius messed up Siria’s hair and looked to Mrs. Weasley.  
“I’ll take Barbara back and look after her,” Mrs. Weasley said. Then Remus and Sirius were gone. [B4, 713]  
“Severus,” Dumbledore looked to Snape, “you know what I must ask you do. If you are ready…”  
“I am.”  
“Then good luck,” said Dumbledore with a look of apprehension. Snape looked paler than usual, with a strange glitter in his cold, black eyes. They flashed to Siria for a moment, or so she thought, before he swept out of the room. [B4, 713]  
Several minutes past before anyone spoke again (B4, 713). “What about us?” Siria asked. “What can we do?”  
“Focus on your schooling,” Dumbledore instructed.  
“You’re joking,” said Cassius. “We were almost killed tonight.”  
“You’re still children,” Mrs. Weasley told them.  
“I’m of age,” Cassius argued.  
“You’re still in school,” Mr. Warrington reminded his son.  
“They’re right,” Hermione spoke. She placed a hand on Siria’s. “We ought to focus on school.” Then her eye caught something on the window and she rose to her feet.  
“I have matters I must attend to,” Dumbledore told them. “Please avoid any recklessness for the evening.” He left. Siria looked to Hermione, who inched her way to the wall of windows, then Ron, who shrugged. Colin extended one of the bags of coins on the floor to Cassius, while Dennis held the other out to Siria. She took the bag and held it out to Cassius, who had done the same.  
“You take it,” they told the other. “I don’t want it.”  
“It’s not like I earned it,” Siria reminded him. “Junior got me through.”  
“No one would have told me about the dragons, if you hadn’t,” Cassius said.  
“I would have died in the graveyard.”  
“I would have died in the maze.”  
“Just take it!” Siria insisted. Cassius threw his bag onto her bed. Siria gasped.  
“I’ll take it,” Fred joked. Siria swept up Cassius’s bag and threw it at Fred. She chucked the other at George’s head then looked to Cassius.  
“You didn’t want it anyway,” Siria said.  
“Good— at least we’ll get a laugh out of it,” Cassius told her.  
“Nonsense,” Mrs. Weasley snapped at the two of them, “Fred and George are going to return it.”  
“No, they aren’t,” Cassius told her. “I may not have a say in being in the ‘Order’, but I get a say where my money goes.”  
“Thank you!” Siria agreed.  
There was a loud crash and everyone turned to see Hermione, beside the window, with her hands clapped together. She blinked at Siria in the way Hermione often did when she focused on winking. “It’s all settled, really Mrs. Weasley, Fred—” she looked to Fred, unsure if he were Fred or George, but he nodded, “offered to take it off their hands and I think we ought to respect Cassius and Siria’s decision.” Ron pressed his head into the side of Siria’s bed to hide his face. Siria pulled her hair over, like a curtain.  
“Besides,” Travers stood up, with a nod to Hermione, “it’s late and us children have a duty to our schooling, which we can’t do without sleep.”  
“Yeah!” Fred agreed.  
“So tired,” George stretched.  
“Very much,” Lavender added. They quickly collected their things until Dennis was the only one not ready. He hugged Siria.  
“Can’t I stay?” He whispered. She patted his back.  
“You’ll want to know what’s happening,” Siria assured him.  
Mr. Warrington, Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Creevey, Cassius, and Siria were the only ones left in the hospital wing. Siria peered into her goblet. There was hardly any left, but some did remain. She sighed and finished it off, as Cassius did his.  
“See you in the morning, roomie,” Siria told him and she sighed. Mrs. Weasley tucked her in.  
“See you, roomie,” Cassius said in reply. Again, she felt the pull of sleep.  
“Parent to parents,” Mrs. Creevey said, “what do I do?” But Siria did not hear the reply. She heard nothing, but her breath, as she was carried off to sleep.


	37. The Beginning

**The Beginning**   


While they waited for Dumbledore to speak with the school in the evening, Cassius and Siria planned their summer. With the exception of the occasional visit from Madam Pomfrey, they were alone until after lunch. Hermione snuck into the hospital wing with Colin, his camera, and Cedric. The three shifted the curtains around Professor Moody’s bed to hide them. Cedric handed Cassius a change of clothes.  
“If you’re up for it, how about an interview for the paper?” Hermione asked as quietly as she could. “We’ll send it first day of summer, so we can’t get the school in trouble. Besides, they’ll read who knows what in the Daily Prophet,” she pulled a crumpled ball from her pocket, which was a Daily Prophet article. Though, calling it an article was generous.  
Hogwarts Wins the Triwizard Tournament  
Cassius Warrington and Siria Potter shared victory last night, in the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. The two, who entered tied, left tied and shared victory. Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, issued their winnings late last night. Congratulations to the two Hogwarts winners.  
Siria crumpled the article and looked to Cassius. “You don’t have to, but—” Siria began  
“No, I’m in,” said Cassius. She nodded. Hermione took Siria’s account while Cedric took Cassius’s. Then Cassius changed into the clothes Cedric had brought him. Colin finished off his roll of film before he was content.  
“Ron wanted to be here, but we’ll both be back tonight, with Alice,” Hermione told them. “We’re not going to be left out to focus on our ‘schooling’.”  
“Hermione We-Could-Be-Killed-Or-Worse-Expelled Granger says what now?” Siria asked. Hermione raised her head.  
“I was eleven and friendless,” Hermione said.  
“We’ve got to get these edited and to print by dinner,” Cedric reminded her. “See you soon,” he told Cassius and Siria then he, Colin, and Hermione left.  
“We’re in so much trouble,” Siria said.  
“Regretting it already?” Cassius asked. Siria scoffed.  
“Not— one— bit,” she assured him and flopped onto her bed. “I just figured someone ought to point out the obvious.”  
“Yeah,” Cassius sat down. “I just wish we could tell the Muggleborn parents too.”  
“We do,” Siria said. “Sirius posts it online— er, a non-magic…” Siria groaned and pressed her hands into her cheeks while she searched for how to explain. “It’s like… like a non-magic fireplace head? I’ll show you over summer.”  
Dumbledore had requested the school not approach Cassius or Siria until they were ready (B4, 717). He urged them not to discuss the details of the night, which the school had seen on mirrors. Over their final week of classes, Siria couldn’t help but notice Draco Malfoy strutting around the school with the same swagger of two years ago, when his father forced Dumbledore out.  
On Thursday, when they would have had their final Defense Against the Dark Arts class, they visited Hagrid at his cabin. He was more than happy to see them, though he couldn’t disclose what he and Madam Maxime would be doing over summer. Hagrid assured Siria that, though she may not be okay now, she would be. [B4, 718-719]

 

“Breathe,” Siria reminded herself. “Just breathe.” Her closed eyes focused on the light that pushed through her eyelids. “It’s only the Leaving Feast,” she inhaled slowly and deeply. Ever since the left the hospital wing, Siria ate first thing in the morning and at the very end of dinner. She would sneak into the kitchens for lunch or Hermione or Ron would bring her something.  
As per Dumbledore’s instructions, the school had left Cassius and Siria alone. They had heeded the instructions too well and parted whenever Cassius or Siria were near. Siria saw the usual storm of faces in the Great Hall and her lungs froze. They constricted on her. She gasped.  
“It’s okay!” Hermione called and patted Siria’s back. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m right here,” she rubbed Siria’s back. “You’re in our dorm, in Gryffindor Tower, in Hogwarts. You’re safe.” Siria nodded and tugged on Hermione’s arm.  
“They stare at me even more,” Siria said with her head pressed into Hermione’s shoulder. “It’s like Wormtail left another scar.”  
“No,” Hermione ran her hand through Siria’s hair. “If anything, they’re— they’re intimidated by your bravery,” Hermione nodded. “Siria, you dueled You-Know-Who, in front of Death Eaters, in a graveyard. You cast Fiendfyre and controlled it. There full grown adults who couldn’t do either, let along both. Everyone’s just… they’ll come around.”  
Their dorm door cracked open and Parvati’s head poked in. “Hey,” she soothed and sat beside Hermione and Siria. “When you’re ready, we’re ready to take you,” Parvati rubbed Siria’s shoulder. Siria stifled a sob, but nodded. Hermione and Parvati helped Siria. “Almost the whole tower’s in the common room. You aren’t alone,” Parvati patted Siria’s back. “Just wait until the paper comes out— you’re going to be drown in letters of affection.”  
“Or Ministry hate mail,” Siria muttered, but Parvati had been right. The common room was filled with Gryffindors, waiting for Siria.  
“We’ve got you,” Fred cupped his hand to his mouth.  
“Come on, Potter-Black,” George winked. Siria’s chin fell to her chest. She wanted to say “thank you,” but the words got lost on their way.  
“Whatever,” came out instead, but Hermione nuzzled Siria’s shoulder. Parvati walked Siria to Ron, who took Siria’s arm in Parvati’s place. The trio headed to the Great Hall, in the middle of a sea of Gryffindors.  
Normally, the Leaving Feast was decorated with the colors of the winning cup. Tonight it was decorated with its usual banner for each Hogwarts House, but two additional banners, one for Beauxbatons and another for Durmstrang. Though Karkaroff had not been seen, the Durmstrang students sat with the Hufflepuffs. Madame Maxime had her seat at the professors’ table and the Beauxbatons sat with the Ravenclaws, as they had.  
Further down the table, beside Professor McGonagall, Siria noted Snape. He watched her for a moment with a stare she didn’t recognize on his face. It wasn’t the usual loathing, but, with how deep the bags beneath his dark eyes were, she supposed he was too tired to hate her today.  
For a Leaving Feast, things were subdued. The small hum of light chatter died at the end of the feast, when Dumbledore rose for his parting speech. “The end of another year. There is much I would like to say to you all tonight,” Dumbledore confessed, “I suppose I must start with the news that Lord Voldemort has returned.” [B4, 721-722]  
He stood before them, quiet as the night, as a pankied whisper rushed over the Great Hall. There were glances to Cassius, at the Slytherin table, and Siria, at the Gryffindor, as if they would say Dumbledore was only joking. Beneath the table, Siria held Hermione’s and Ron’s hands. Cassius nodded to her from across the hall.  
“The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this”, Dumbledore continued once the silence returned. “It’s possible some of your parents will agree with them, either because they do no believe Lord Voldemort has returned or because they believe you too young to know. It is my belief that the truth is generally preferable to lies,” he explained. [B4, 722]  
“As you saw on the enchanted mirror, Cassius Warrington and Siria Potter-Black managed to escape Lord Voldemort,” at the mentions of their names, heads turned like fans from Cassius, at the Slytherin table beside the door, to Siria at the Gryffindor table on the opposite side of the Great Hall. “They risked their lives for the other that night and showed the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort. For this, I ask you to honor them with me,” and he raised his goblet. [B4, 723]  
First, he raised his goblet to Cassius. “To Cassius,” he said as most of the hall echoed his motion and words. Then “To Siria,” where nearly the same number echoed her name. She tried to sit up and proud, but Siria’s shoulders flinched up when so many eyes were on her. Through the crowd she caught the cold silver eyes of Draco Malfoy. He whispered to Crabbe and Goyle who, like him, had not raised their goblets. [B4, 723]  
“Wonder if he’ll still want you honored after the paper comes out,” Ron said through the side of his mouth as he put his goblet down. Siria wondered the same. They watched Dumbledore turn from the students to Madame Maxime and Hagrid then to Fleur Delacour and her fellow Beauxbatons students at the Ravenclaw table. His eyes fell on Viktor Krum and the other Durmstrang students. Krum stiffened, as if he expected Dumbledore to be unkind to them. Cedric Diggory patted Krum’s shoulder and Krum nodded in silent reply.  
“The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understand. In light of Lord Voldemort’s return, such ties are more important than ever before,” Dumbledore explained. “Every guest in this Hall will be welcomed back here at any time, should they wish to come. In light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. We can only combat Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading enmity with trust, his discord with friendship. [B4, 723]  
“It is my belief that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you have already suffered at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, two students were almost taken from our midst,” Dumbledore reminded them. Siria’s throat constricted as heads turned to her or Cassius. [B4, 723-724]  
“If the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember Cassius and Siria. Remember the two students who took the path of what was right and difficult, and returned.” [B4, 724]

 

Hedwig slept in her cage on top of Siria’s trunk, while they wanted in the entrance hall for the carriages to take them to Hogsmeade station. Ron and Siria sat, back to back, on her trunk while Hermione talked with the Hogwarts Herald members. Ernie MacMillan asked if he could write to Hermione over summer, and Ron elbowed Siria.  
“Popular now, is she?” Ron asked. Siria sighed.  
“If you want Ernie to write you, just ask,” she said. Ron tsked and looked back to Hermione and Ernie.  
“Do you suppose she fancies him? Probably not, with Krum around…” Ron said. Siria sighed again. She closed her eyes and focused the warm summer sun on her skin. Privet Drive would probably be in full color and she already couldn’t wait to leave it.  
“Write you over summer?” Lily Moon asked. Ron elbowed Siria, who sat up and opened her eyes.  
“Sorry, Moon, what?” Siria asked.  
“Oh,” Lily Moon’s face mirrored Ron’s hair. “Could I— could I write— write you over— over summer?” she stammered.  
“Of course,” Siria smiled, “letter are the highlight of my summer.” Lily Moon smiled in reply and nodded. She ran off to tug on Susan Bones’s arm.  
“You’re popular too,” Ron noted. He slumped against Siria with his head down.  
“If you want more friends, I could give you a cool scar,” Siria flicked Sirius’s knife open.  
“What are you doing?” Ron hissed and threw Siria into a hug to hide the knife.  
“What are YOU doing?” Siria asked as she shoved him off. She closed the knife and dropped it back into her pocket.  
“You could have cut your hand off,” said Ron. Siria’s jaw dropped, then clicked closed.  
“I don’t know what sort of knife Wormtail used to saw through bone, but my knife isn’t that good,” Siria said.  
“Zerria!” Fleur Delacour sand and hurried over the stone steps. Siria hurried down them and met her in the middle. She saw, in the distance, Hagrid and Madame Maxime putting the harnesses on the giant horses of the Beauxbatons carriage. “We will see each uzzer soon, I ‘hope,” Fleur extended her hand. Siria shook it and nodded. “I ‘hope to get a job ‘ere, to improve my Eenglish.”  
“It’s very good already,” Ron assured her from the top of the stairs. Siria fought to urge to look her shoulder.  
“Not that my English is great, but I’d be more than willing to write you, if you’d like the practice,” Siria told Fleur.  
“Zat would be lovely. It ‘az been a pleasure and I look forward to your lettaz,” Fleur said and left.[B4, 724-725]  
“How do you suppose they’re getting back?” Ron asked as Siria climbed back up the stairs. “You know, with Karkaroff gone?”  
“Karkaroff did not steer,” the gruff voice of Viktor Krum told them. He looked up at Hermione and the group of Herald students parted for him. “Could I have a vord?” Krum asked her. Hermione tucked a lock of bushy brown hair behind her ear, only for it to bring back.  
“Of course,” Hermione said and she walked with him, down the stairs. [B4, 725]  
“The carriages’ll be here any minute!” Ron called. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told Siria. She shrugged. Ron turned around, so his back faced the stairs.  
“Dunno what you’re talking about,” Siria said. She scraped the dirt out from under her nails.  
“You’re not watching them?” Ron asked. “For the carriages.”  
“They’ll be here when they get here,” said Siria. “Besides, we’ll still get on before third and under.”  
After a few minutes, Krum and Hermione returned. Hermione kept her head up and her face impassive. Ron watched Hermione as if she would give something away. Krum held out his hand and shook Siria’s. “Vill you tell Varrington I send my best?” Krum asked. Siria nodded. As Krum walked away, Ron suffered an internal struggle that ended with him asking for Krum’s autograph, which Krum provided. [B4, 725]  
Near the back of the train, Hermione, Ron, and Siria set up in the compartment across from Cassius, Cedric, Cho Chang, Maddy, Patricia, and Travers. They hoped to be left alone, even from each other for awhile. When the train started to move, Hermione rustled a jar out of her bag and handed it to Siria.  
“Thanks?” Siria said and looked to Ron. He shrugged and looked closer. There were a few leaves and sticks in the jar. A large, fat green beetle filled a good part of the jar. Ron laughed.  
“That’s a weird beetle— it’s got little glasses on it,” Ron said. He and Siria examined it closer. “Hermione… how long have you been waiting to tell us?”  
“Since the hospital wing,” Hermione smiled. “It’s Rita Skeeter— she’s an unregistered Animagus.”  
“You’re kidding,” said Ron and he swept the jar from Siria’s hands. “It is her!” [B4, 727-728]  
Hermione explained how there had been a beetle on the statue in the garden at the Yule Ball. There has been one in her hair at the second task and that Rita must have been on the window when Siria was at the hospital wing earlier in the year. No one would notice a beetle on the grounds and Moody’s magical eye wouldn’t notice either. [B4, 728]  
“Once we get back to London, I’ll let her out and she’s to keep her quill to herself for a whole year, unless she wants me to spill the beans on her,” Hermione smiled. She put the jar back into her bag. “I used an Unbreakable Charm and it’s worked quite nicely.” [B4, 728]  
“Thank Merlin you’re on our side,” Ron said.  
Siria thought about the mandrake leaf under her tongue. How obvious would she be as an Animagus? It would be handy to be large enough to fight, but much better to avoid trouble if she was small enough to sneak around. The image of rat flashed through her mind and Siria clicked her tongue. She would rather be the size of a bear than anything remotely rat like.  
Not long after they got food from the trolly, their compartment door slid open. Siria sighed at the pale boy with a pointed face, who stood in the doorway like he owned the train. He was flanked, as usual, by the bulky Crabbe and Goyle. “And here I thought you forgot your traditional visit,” Siria said. “Did you come to say you want to friends again and braid each other’s hair?”  
“You should want to be friends with me,” Malfoy told her, “I told you, in our first year, time and time again to ditch the two of them, but here you are— on the losing side. If you had just listened, you might have been fine, Potter.” [B4, 729]  
Siria leaned her head onto Ron’s shoulder and sighed. She wished Hermione had sat on the same side, instead of opposite, with Crookshanks. “One of these days you’re going to realize that no one wins in war,” Siria told him. “Sure,” she sat up, “Voldemort’s going to kill me, but we’ve already killed one Death Eater— so don’t worry about me, but tell your papa to watch out.”  
“Don’t you dare—” Malfoy reach for his wand, but an explosion of color and bangs caught him first. [B4, 729]  
Crabbe and Goyle fell, stunned, onto the floor of the hall while Malfoy crashed onto the compartment floor. Hermione, Ron, and Siria had each used a different hex, and were not the only ones. The compartment across the hall was opened and Fred and George were in the hall, with their wands out as well. [B4, 730].  
“You’d think he’d check his surroundings,” Patricia shook her head Crabbe, Goyle, and Malfoy.  
“Or be inconspicuous,” said Fred, as he stepped on Crabbe to get into the compartment.  
“When he parades through,” said George while he stepped on Goyle to enter.  
“Looking for trouble,”  
“Especially ‘Siria’,” George winked to Siria, who rolled her eyes, as he sat down beside her.  
“My hopeless cousin,” Travers pointed her wand at Malfoy and lifted him into the air. She winced as head hit the doorway of the compartment, before she put him down in her compartment. She and the others moved into Siria’s compartment. Colin and Dennis arrived soon after.  
Despite the compartment being more packed than any Siria had been in, it still wasn’t full. When Neville came by a little later, there was still space. Colin and wedged himself between Siria and Ron. Dennis had squeezed in between Siria and George. With all the snacks that Siria had brought, there were still enough for everyone.  
“Oh yeah,” Siria clicked open her trunk and pulled out a jar, labeled “Creepy Crawlies”. “What are these?” She asked George.  
“Don’t open that!” Fred told her.  
“I didn’t know Ron was giving it to you,” said George.  
“They’re a joke gift,”  
“Enchanted fake bugs,”  
“Like Chocolate Frogs,”  
“The kind you don’t eat, though.”  
“Please use the winnings to make something better than Charmed insects,” Cassius requested.  
“Already working on it,” said George. Siria eyed the jar in her hands.  
“I understand if you don’t want it,” said Ron.  
“No; it’s more like I wish I could mail them to Voldemort and see him freak out over it,” Siria confessed. She sighed.  
“You know, I’ve been wondering,” Ron confessed as they waited to push through the barrier. “You had decided to call,” his eyes shifted around, “You-Know-Who, ‘Tom’, but you haven’t.”  
“Well, the point was to remind him he can’t get what he wants and I can remind him by living until I have to die,” Siria shrugged. “Besides, it boils my blood when someone calls me ‘Potter’, and he,” she rolled her eyes at it, “he at least called me ‘Potter-Black’.”  
“I’m sure you’ll call him ‘Tom’ when you get real cross,” Ron said. Siria cracked a smirk.  
“Maybe.”  
They returned the Muggle world. When Siria saw Chloe and Mrs. Weasley talking, she wondered if there was really a divide. Tom Riddle was a boy from a Muggle orphanage that grew into Lord Voldemort. Siria Potter-Black was a horcrux raised by Muggles as a girl. She hugged Chloe then Mrs. Weasley. In the warm arms of Mrs. Weasley, in King’s Cross Station, Siria felt the weight she had carried since the graveyard finally lift off her. After all, this was only the beginning.


End file.
